The Gift
by ChickWalker2000
Summary: Mired in a bitter range war, Heyes and the Kid discover just how hard it can be to 'love thine enemy'.


_A friend is a gift you give yourself -_

_**Robert Louis Stevenson**_

_**This story takes place in 1876... **_

The horse wandered down to the stream. He was so thirsty. The ride had been long, hard and fast and he was about done in, frothing and foaming, sides heaving. The man on his back didn't stir as he bent to the cool water; hadn't moved for quite a while now, just a dead weight clinging to his neck. It was a relief when the man finally slid from the saddle to lay still in the cool shallow water.

The horse moved alongside of the stream. It was well shaded and he was hoping to find some grass here that was still lush and green in this burnt up landscape. The man was still there, dragging behind him in the dirt, his foot caught in the stirrup. But the horse didn't mind. It was cool in the shade of the willows. He found his grass and began to feed, content to be at rest; out of the sun and eating at last.

His ears twitched when he heard the voices and the squeaking wheel of a wagon coming along the road he and the man had left just a short time ago. But decided they were nothing to do with him. He went on eating...

"Pa!"  
The boy hissed, gripping his father by the arm, pointing out the horse half hidden in the trees. His father grabbed his rifle.

"OK, mister, we can see you," he yelled to the trees. "Figure to bushwhack us huh? Come on out with your hands up. I got a Henry rifle here and when I fire, I rarely miss, so you come on out of there now!"

No reply. Just the babbling of the stream and the chattering of the birds.

The man licked his lips, rigid as a board, holding tight to his gun.

"You hear me?" He yelled again.

Still nothing. The horse took another drink, snorted, blew water from his nostrils. The farmer jumped at the sound, held his breath.

"Pa...?"

"Hush Jimmy!"

"Pa, I don't think no one's there. They'd a come out by now..."

"Shhhh Jimmy," the man whispered. "It's a trap. It's Dawson's men, maybe a whole bunch orn em hoping I'll go check that horse, waiting to git me ifn I go down there."

"I'll go pa..."

"No son, you stay put."

"They won't shoot me, Pa, and you'll be covering me. You could hit a nickel a half mile off..." Jimmy said proudly. "Well, ifn the sun was orn it," he added as an afterthought.

There was still no sound, no movement from the stream. Jimmy's pa swallowed, the tension unbearable. He tried once more...

"Are you comin out here or not..?"

There was a groan - quiet, but unmistakably a man's groan. Farmer Johnson cocked the rifle in alarm.

"Who is that? Who's there?"  
Another quiet moan.

Jimmy tugged at his fathers sleeve. "Sounds like someone in trouble pa..."  
Johnson shook his head. "It's a trap son. You know what Dawson's men are like, what they're capable of... Jimmy!" he yelled as his boy jumped down from the wagon and began walking towards the copse of trees.

"Jimmy, you git back here now!"  
Jimmy hesitated for just a second. He knew he'd probably git a whopping for this. But...

"I think we oughta go see pa," he said, and ran for the horse.

His father cursed the child and promised to himself he'd fetch him one hell of a beating if they got home in one piece. But he got down and went after him, eyes frantically scanning the rocks and trees, rifle at the ready.

He found Jimmy kneeling in the soft sand by the water, talking to a man.

The man was lying, bleeding. There was blood all over him. His foot dangled loosely, one boot caught in the stirrup of a tall chestnut gelding. The man wasn't dead - yet. Almost, but not quite.

After scanning the trees for more men, John Johnson decided this wasn't no ambush. Looking down at the injured man, he saw no red bandanna. Man was clearly alone and in a lot of trouble. There was a wound in his side, he was awful pale; he'd lost a deal of blood. Johnson doubted if he'd live another hour.

"What we gonna do Pa?" Little Jimmy was asking, fear in his eyes.

"Well, he's a slim kind of fella. Reckon I kin lift him into the wagon. Whether he'll make the journey home, I can't say."

The boy looked up at his father in alarm. "Take him home? If he's one of Dawson's men, we should leave him be!"

"No son. Man's gonna die if we don't fetch help to him. We'd better get him into the wagon and try to git him back home so's Sarah can take a look at that wound."

"Pa, if he's one of Dawson's boys and we take him home and he dies, Dawson's gonna figure we killed him."

Johnson smiled with pride. His son was one smart little fella. Only ten years old and already thinking ahead of his pa,

"I know son, but we can't leave him here to die. That ain't right. And I don't think he is one of Dawson's men. They ride in packs. Whatever else they might be, they wouldn't leave one of their own for the Coyotes. Come on," he grunted, lifting the man up and over his shoulder. "Let's git him back to the farm, see jest how bad off he is and then we kin start to worrying about what Dawson's gonna do."

~ ooO0Ooo ~

In the town of Bitter Creek, Wyoming, four men staggered from the Saloon; laughing, joking, drunk and whooping.

Each man wore a red bandanna round his neck and one of them, a young bully called Harry Flynn, began to fire his gun the air, scattering the townsfolk, amusing his buddies, 'specially the man in charge; a big, stupid, auburn haired fella name of Joe Falmouth.

Usually the people of Bitter Creek knew to keep out of the way when Dawson's hired guns - his red bandannas - were in town, and Joe felt it never hurt to give them a little demonstration of just who was in charge around here. Which was why his mean, cruel heart jumped with joy at the sight of the farmer, loading a box into his wagon.

Now, that made Joe mad. See, he'd made a point of telling the farmers they were to keep outta town and now, here was this man Johnson, doing his marketing right here on Main Street, in broad daylight, like he didn't take no heed at all of what Falmouth had told him and all his kind.

Man had his kid with him too. Would be fun to show the sodbusters - man and boy - what happened when they disregarded Mercer Dawson's hired men.

Little Jimmy saw them first, nudging his pa, to get his attention. The farmer felt his heart begin to pound in his ears when he saw the four men swaggering over, their guns tied down low on their hips, hands resting on their gunbelts, looking like they meant business.

"Well, well, well. Now, look what we got here," Falmouth drawled, shoving the farmer hard on the shoulder so that he crashed back against the wagon.

"Boys, you'll all remember how I told them sodbusters that Mr Dawson didn't want farmers in town on account of the bad smell of sour milk an sheep's dung they do bring with em. But farmer boy Johnson here; he seems to think he's some kinda exception to Mr Dawson's rule.

"Why is that, may I ask, Mr Johnson? Cause, we told you very polite and kindly-like to stay out of town ifn you didn't wanna bring no trouble down on your family's head. Now, I see you here in town like this, I have to assume that trouble is what you're wanting. Is that what you want Mr Johnson? Cause, if it is, I kin git plenty for yer."

The men either side of Falmouth laughed real hard at that, even more as Falmouth gave the man a couple more hefty shoves, bouncing him off the side of his wagon.

Little Jimmy, sitting quiet on the buckboard, moved slowly, quietly, towards his father's rifle - had just laid a hand on it when he noticed the fourth man. He was new, Jimmy hadn't seen him around before. He stood apart from the others and he wasn't laughing. He had a hard, steely look in his blue eyes and it was fixed on Jimmy. Almost imperceptibly, the man glanced at the rifle and shook his head. Jimmy let go of the gun, but he didn't take his eyes off the man who kept his right hand over the Colt on his hip.

Jimmy listened with shame and loathing as his father tried to reason with Dawson's bullies -

"Look Mister Falmouth, I don't want no trouble with you. I had to come in. We got an emergency, a man hurt. I had to come git medical supplies..."  
"A man hurt you say? Well that's pretty careless ain't it, John? How'd that happen? You get a little reckless with a hoe, or one of your old milk cows little prone to kick out?"

Falmouth's cronies got a good laugh out of that one.

Falmouth tut-tutted. "Seems farmer's round here are getting hurt every day. You ask me, sounds like real dangerous work. Maybe you should take up Mr Dawson's generous offer, Johnson? Man's offering good money for your land, far moren' it's worth. Why don't you just take it and git into some less risky line of business?"

Johnson nodded, trying not to rile the drunken gunslinger. He tried to get up on his wagon, but Falmouth pulled him back down, pushed him over to Flynn, who shoved him over to the blue eyed man. He looked deep into the farmer's frightened eyes before tossing him away, out into the street.

Then Falmouth took out his gun. Jimmy held his breath, then watched in horror as Falmouth pointed the weapon at his pa. He began shooting at his feet, making the farmer skip and jump to get away as bullets sang and whined about him, kicking up the dust, taking chunks out of the boardwalk and the frame stores and houses.

The gunmen whooped and hollered in delight. "Go farmer! Do a dance for us! Yeeha!"

Jimmy's eyes filled with tears of fear and rage for his Pa. He glanced up at the blue eyed man. He wasn't shooting and he wasn't laughing, but he looked real mean. Jimmy decided he was more scared of this cold, solemn man than any of Dawson's shrieking bullies.

Jimmy looked over at the new man. He just stood there watching as them men tormented and humiliated his pa. Then the man took out his gun and fired once into the air. Everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to look at him.

That man had an edge to him like nothing Jimmy'd ever seen in his life. You could tell - quiet as he was, young as he was - that the others had respect for him. Feared him. He had a air of menace that made everyone fall silent to hear what he was gonna say.

"I think it's time you got out of town, mister," he said to Johnson; standing there, dusty, panting and sweating in the dirt.

"Coming in ain't gonna be nothing but trouble for you farm folks. You oughta listen to Mr Falmouth when he tells ya to git out and stay out. Now get on your wagon and go, fore things start gettin outta hand."  
Johnson grabbed at his hat, lying in the dust, full of holes where Falmouth's men had been shooting at it. He climbed quickly into the wagon and took up the reins, was moving out when Jimmy turned to look back at the blue eyed man and yelled;

"Old Leary never came into Bitter Creek. His barn weren't in town neither. Didn't stop yer burnin it down!"

"Hush up, Jimmy," Johnson said in a panic, shaking the boy by the arm. "You gotta learn when to keep your mouth shut!"

Falmouth grabbed at Johnson's mule, pulling her over to the sidewalk. He fixed little Jimmy with a stare. The boy flinched back.

"You shut your trap boy!" Falmouth hissed. "This is men's business, 'tween me and your pa! You wanna learn your son some manners, farmer..."

The blue eyed man stepped over and fixed Jimmy with that cool, calm, dangerous gaze.

"Mr Falmouth's right," he said, quietly, locking eyes with the kid. "You and your pa oughta git out of town now. While you still can. Don't be in too much of a hurry to come back, neither"

Johnson nodded to the man, whipped up his mule and moved off out of town - half expecting a bullet in the back. He could feel the stares, hear the men's laughter and gleeful gunfire following him all the way.

Jimmy looked back to see the others patting and thumping congratulations on the blue-eyed man as he re-holstered his gun. But the man wasn't laughing or hollering. He stood stock still in the middle of the street, staring the boy down with the coldest glare Jimmy'd seen in all his ten years. Put winter chills and goosebumps all the way up the boy's spine, despite the fierce August sun burning down on his head.

~ ooO0Ooo ~

The moon was up, hanging low; fat and gold in a blue velvet sky as John Johnson, exhausted, barely conscious, pulled the wagon through the gate and into the yard. He shook young Jimmy awake, sending him to settle the mule while he dragged his tired legs over to the cosy tumbledown cabin that was home to him, his boy and his sister Sarah. She stood waiting for him on the porch as he sloped across the yard with the heavy box of provisions.

His sister was a widow with no children of her own. She needed a home and he needed a home-keeper so she'd come to live with them four winters past when he'd lost his wife trying to bring Jimmy's little sister into the world. Poor Mary was buried out back now, alongside John's ma, his pa and two other young uns who didn't get to outgrow their baby clothes.

All John's purpose now went into making a good life - a future - for little Jimmy. He hoped his sister would have found some happiness here on the farm with them too. She did her best to be kind and kept them warm, fed and comfortable, but she was hard bitten by life and trouble. All the sweetness and softness that had once been in her was gone, beaten out by a lifetime of hard work and the constant fight against the elements - and their fellow man.

This range war had been the last straw for Sarah. She'd convinced herself they would lose the land and everything they had. All the spark had gone out of her this past year. Seemed all that was left of the woman was a weather beaten shell with a core of bitter gall.

"You're late," she snapped, her face softening some when she saw the cuts and bruises on his scoured and whiskered face.

"What happened?" she asked, a little more gently.

"Red Bandannas," he sighed, not really wanting to talk about it. He'd only really stopped shaking 'bout an hour back.

Sarah nodded. She didn't ask him for more - 'red bandannas' was all she needed to know.

"You git them stores?" she asked.

John nodded. "Took the chance, being in town to buy them medicines we needed too. How is he?" he asked her.

She sniffed, with a toss of her tired head. "Still out cold. Find out who he is yet?"  
John shook his head. "Asked around town. No ones heard of any of the Bethl'em Ranch boys gone missing."

"We needed them medicines anyhow. If he dies, they won't be wasted..."

"Sarah!"

"Oh, he ain't gonna die, John! Wound ain't so bad," she said. "Little more'n a scratch, but he's a lost a deal of blood. He needs some rest and beef broth is all. Soon as he's strong enough to ride, I want

him back on that fancy animal of his, heading out of here, and the sooner the better! I can't imagine what you were thinking, John Johnson! Bringing a wounded man here."

"Would you have left him lying there in the river bleeding like he was? Aw Sarah, he's little moren a boy..."

"Boy!" she snorted. "He ain't no youngern' those hired thugs of Dawson's! And how'd he git wounded that way, huh? Either he's one of Dawson's men or one of em did it. Either way it's gonna mean trouble for us."

"I don't know about him being with Dawson," John muttered. "He ain't wearing no bandanna. You know... there was a robbery, over towards Benton."  
Sarah turned a sharp, questioning look on him.

"When I was in town, I got talking to Cletus. He's left his farm, sold up to Dawson, working in the Telegraph office now. He said the saloon was doing great business on account of a posse being in town, drowning their sorrows..."

Sarah sighed. "Let's hear the rest of it."

"Seems the Devils Hole Gang tried to rob Dawson's payroll train couple of days back. Something went wrong, gang got shot up and skidadled, split up this side of the Medicine Bows, trying to git back to their hideout they say. Well, posse went after a couple of 'em. Trails went cold, and they didn't catch up to them, but they do say at least one of 'em caught a bullet..."

"Oh, even better!" Sarah sneered. "If he ain't one of Dawson's men, he's some outlaw with a posse on his tail? What you have to bring him back here for John? A wounded man can't possibly bring nothing but trouble on us! You take him into town, right now and leave him there, in the street if needs be. Let one of his own look after him!"

"Sarah! You don't mean that!"  
"Don't I? We don't need this John! We got troubles enough of our own!"

~ ooO0Ooo ~

The boys at the Bethl'em ranch were having a lively night of it, Mercer Dawson thought as he rode home that hot August night, taking advantage of the full moon to check some of the stock they were bringing down for the last big drive of the year. He could hear the music and revelry from way off, long before he saw the light still streaming from the bunkhouse.

He'd heard what happened in town today and laughed to himself, imagining the scene...

Joe, basking in the warm glow of flattery and congratulations would have brought whiskey for all; his custom after a successful confrontation with the farmers; Joe knew how to keep his boys sweet. Dawson expected the whooping it up and celebrating would go on into the night. Well, that was OK, he thought, getting down and handing his reigns to the stable boy. So long as it didn't interfere with the work.

They were short handed for dealing with the sodbusters right now. With the cattle drive coming up, every hand they could spare was needed on the range. That was why he'd had to bring in gunmen. They were costing him a pretty penny too, each one getting ten times a cowboys wage, so he was pleased to hear Joe was good at the job he was being so well paid for. Heard good reports of the new man too. Seemed he was gonna be a real asset...

The new man sat alone outside, among the straw bales, angrily whittling at a piece of wood. He watched Dawson ride in and walk towards the big house and considered going over to have that talk he'd been rehearsing in his mind these past several days. But somehow, he couldn't raise the energy. That business in town had left him drained. All he wanted was sleep and he couldn't get it cause of all the hooraying going on in there.

Well, it was so hot; he'd spread a blanket here in the clean straw and sleep out tonight.

He contented himself for now with glaring at Dawson's back, watching him till he went inside - his blue eyes black with ice-cold fury.

~ ooO0Ooo ~

"Hank! Hank! We gotta leave it, gotta git movin. They're gonna be right on top of us unless we go now! Gotta split up, gotta... gotta..."  
With a cry, the man's eyes snapped open. Staring round the room in terror, till they fixed on little Jimmy who sat beside the bed, watching him.

"Are you OK mister?" he asked nervously.

The man went on staring, wide-eyed at the boy. He was sweating, breathing hard, like he'd run a race. His dark eyes had a bewildered, frightened look.

"Pa! Sarah!" Jimmy called, then cried out in fright when the man suddenly caught him by the arm, gripping tight.

"Ow! hey! Let go, you're hurting me...!"

"Let him go! Let him go! Now!" Sarah yelled at the injured man as she stood in the doorway, her brother's rifle levelled at the man's head.

The man loosed his grip, and Jimmy ran to Sarah who pulled him safe behind her skirts.

"I'm sorry..." the man whispered, his voice dry and weak. "I... I..."

"What?" the woman asked harshly. "What you got to say to me? Who are you? What you do to get yerself shot up like that? Come on. I want answers."  
The man continued to stare at her and the boy.

"I, I don't know.." he said eventually.

"Don't give me that! I need to know who y'are."

The man switched his gaze from the barrel of the gun to Little Jimmy, hiding behind Sarah, watching with fear on his face.

"Hey, I... I'm sorry. I'm real sorry son, I didn't mean to scare yer like that," he said. "I was having some kind of a bad dream. Ma'am, I don't know what I done. I don't know where I am..."

For a moment, Sarah almost softened towards him. He sounded so lost, so helpless and afraid. Then she remembered; he was probably an outlaw, or one of Dawson's gunmen. She checked herself and tightened her grip on the rifle.

"Now you look here," she said. "My brother brought you into our home cos he's got a soft and foolish heart. Myself, I'd a left you bleeding down by the river. Reckon whatever bunch you're riding with don't mean no good to us. You're here now, ain't nothing I kin do 'bout that. But you lay your thieving, murdering, gun-slinging hands on this boy, or anyone else in this house again, I'll shoot you dead, you hear?"

"Ma'am..." He started to smile - Sarah cocked the rifle.

"No you don't! None of that. I don't wanna git to know yer sonny. I don't wanna be your friend. I just want to know who and what you are, boy. I need to know what I got under my roof."

The wounded man nodded slowly. The woman held the rifle steady. He was sure her aim was good and he didn't doubt for a minute she meant every word she said.

"I mean no harm to your boy, or you, or anyone," he said. "As soon as I can, I'll leave. I'd go right now if I was able."

"A name. I want a name."

"Lawrence. Jack Lawrence."

"How'd you come to get shot, Jack Lawrence?"

"I don't remember. Truly, I really don't remember. Someone shot at me, that's all I know."

"You working for Dawson?"

"Dawson...? I, I never heard of..."

"One of that Devil's Hole Gang, then? On the run from that posse out of Benton?"

He shook his head.

"You have the advantage of me, ma'am, I don't know _your_ name,"  
Sarah hesitated a moment, She really didn't want this man trying to ingratiate himself with her. She'd met enough smooth-talking, handsome bucks like him to know all their tricks. But she supposed, giving her name couldn't hurt.

"Sarah Simmons," she said.

"Pleased to meet you, Mrs Simmons. What's your name son?"

"You don't need to know the boys name, you ain't gonna be passing time with him. All you got to concentrate on doing is getting strong enough to mount your horse and ride on out of here. You hear me?"

"I hear you," he nodded gravely, lying back down on Sarah's clean, soft pillows. He really did feel awful bad. The wound in his side was tearing at him like fifty hungry vultures. He felt dizzy all of a sudden; sick and weak. A wave of nausea washed over him. He closed his eyes.

Jimmy looked up at his aunt. "Is he gonna die, aunt Sarah?"

"No, he ain't gonna die, Jimmy," she said. "He's just sick is all. Not that it matters none to us. Just so long as whoever he rides with, or whoever it is done this to him don't come a knocking at our door. I'm just gonna nurse him as hard as I can and hope he gets better real soon sos he can get out of our home. I won't rest easy till he's gone."

"Do you think he's an outlaw, aunt Sarah? Or one of them gunnies of Dawson's? He's got some new men up there. I seen one yesterday, when I was in town with pa. Real mean look in his eye. Dawson hires men like that, he means business. Dawson means to drive us off our land, don't he aunt Sarah?"

Sarah shook her head. "I don't know boy. You ask me, you think too much. It ain't no concern of yours. Go get washed up. Supper's almost ready."

"But Dawson ain't gonna, is he aunt Sarah, drive us off our land I mean? Pa says not. Pa says he cant leave here on account of ma, an'

grandma and Grandpa and the babies all being buried here. Says he can't up and leave them with no one to bring flowers to them or nothing."

Sarah clutched the boys shoulder hard and led him away from the sleeping man's room, closing the door with nary a word.

~ ooO0Ooo ~

Jimmy watched the man sleep. Sarah would catch him one, he knew, if she caught him. She'd asked him to take the man some soup - said to wake him, make him eat up every bit and come back out right away. Usually Sarah did all the nursing but she was busy with the wash today - all the clean linen she'd hung out on the line yesterday had been dirtied again when Dawson's men burned up Deke Macleod's cornfield.

Now poor Deke would have no corn to see him and his animals through the winter. He was talking about selling up to Dawson too, like Cletus Mitchell and all the rest. Jimmy'd heard the raised voices in the room last night when he was supposed to be asleep.

Jimmy's Pa didn't want Macleod to sell and leave; 'like a whupped dog,' was how he said it. Dougie Smith and Harry Van Harlen were with Pa but the others said they were all done in, and Deke said how it was making Mrs Macleod sick. He said he was gonna sell and go to California. Davey Macleod was Jimmy's best friend. He'd miss him - like he'd missed all the others who'd packed up and gone.

The man was sleeping better these days. When he first got here he used to thrash about and yell in his sleep somethin awful. it scared Jimmy to see him. But he was calmer now, and mostly he just slept all the time - 'cept when Sarah'd go in to shake him awake and force soup down him. Sometimes he didn't want her soup but she made him drink it up, every last drop. Made Jimmy smile the way aunt Sarah talked to this grown man the same way she did to him when he didn't want his supper.

The man opened his eyes. Jimmy nearly spilled the soup all over he was so startled and so scared. The man was a gunman or an outlaw, everyone said so, and while Jimmy liked to come in and sneak a look at him when he was sleeping, the man awake was a terrifying prospect. He backed off some so he couldn't get a hold of him like last time.

The man was watching him. He was still awful pale with dark circles around his eyes. But he didn't look cruel, the way Falmouth and his men did. He didn't look cold and mean like that blue-eyed fella in town.

The man smiled, first time Jimmy'd seen him smile and he smiled back. Aunt Sarah wouldn't like that, but he couldn't help it. Man had a smile that was kinda catching.

"Don't tell me that's more soup?" he asked.

Jimmy nodded.

"Your Aunt planning to drown me in that stuff? Woulda been kinder to let me bleed," he muttered, easing himself into a sitting position on the pillows. "C'mon then, lets git it over with," he smiled at Jimmy. "What is it? Not potato again?"

"No!" Jimmy shook his head. "Chicken!" he said in wonder. "One of Dawson's men..." He tailed off, watching for a reaction to the dread name Dawson from the man, but there was none, so he went on -

"Dawson's men came riding last night. Burned some of the fields, killed a couple of our chickens too with their shooting, so..." he shrugged. "Chicken soup today. Roast chicken for supper tonight," he said, wide eyed at the thought of this impossible frivolity so far from Thanksgiving.

"It's an ill wind huh?" the man grinned, tucking the napkin into his chin. "Chicken soup. Well, that sounds good." Jimmy handed him the bowl. "Smells good too," he smiled. "You gettin some?"

Jimmy nodded. "Later. When I done my chores."

"Chores huh? My ma used to load me with chores too. Got a lot to do?"

Jimmy shrugged. "Some. I done most already. Sarah keeps giving me more and more, though, 'specially now schools closed..."

The man nodded as he drank his soup. "Why'd they close the school?"

"On account of all the trouble. And most folks with kids have sold up and gone now. There's not many of us left," he said.

The boy looked down at his own foot, kicking at the bed leg. The man waited patiently till the boy found the courage to ask the question so clearly burning his lips.

"Mister.."

"Jack. My name's Jack."

Jimmy smiled. "Jack. You ain't one of Dawson's men are you?"

Jack shook his head. "Your Pa must've asked me that same question at least a dozen times and I keep on tellin him I never heard of this fella Dawson. He's the one causing all the trouble, I take it?"

Jimmy nodded. "He's got hired guns."

"I'll bet he has." Jack drained the last of the soup from the bowl and set it down. "Who is he? Local rancher?"

Jimmy nodded.

"Figured he might be. Owns half the county too I'd guess?"

"And some."

"But still he wants more. Trying to drive you folks off your land huh? Why?"

Jimmy shrugged. "No one knows for sure, but Mr Van Harlen says he's heard rumours that they're planning to run the railroad up this way..."

Jack nodded. "So this land will be worth a whole lot of money, if the railroad needs it." The man sighed. He had an angry expression on his face that worried Jimmy. He figured he oughta go, and picked up the bowl and napkin.

"Leavin already?"

Jimmy looked nervously at the man. The cloud on his face had passed, and he was smiling again. The man - Jack - looked a whole different fella when he smiled, like sunshine after a storm. Jimmy stopped being scared.

"I got a lot of work to do, Jack. And Aunt Sarah'll fetch me one good if she finds me talking to you like this."

"Aunt Sarah don't care for me, does she?"

"She thinks you're an outlaw."

The man laughed. A happy, bubbling sound that started deep in his chest and burst out through that shining smile; as sweet and welcome as watermelon on a hot summer's day. Made Jimmy laugh too, though he didn't know why.

"How'd you come to get shot up then Jack?"

"I don't know Jimmy," Jack said. "All I remember is, I was riding along, heading for Rawlins - I got some kin there, farmers, like you folks; was hoping they could give me some work. Next thing I remember was waking up here, in this bed and your Aunt Sarah pointing a rifle at me."

"I'm sorry 'bout that!" Jimmy said sadly. "Did she scare you, Jack?"

"She sure did Jimmy!"

Jack said it with such feeling, Jimmy laughed out loud.

"She scares me too, Jack," he whispered. "She's got hands hardern' any broom handle,"

Jack smiled at him. "I'll bet she gives you both too, huh?"

"Only when I deserve it."

Jack laughed again. Jimmy loved to hear Jack laugh. It really was a sound to light up the day.

"Do you deserve it much, Jim?"

"Pretty much," Jimmy grinned.

Jack sighed, and eased himself down in the bed. He winced, pain flickering across his face.

"You OK?" Jimmy asked.

"Yeah, I just... it hurts some is all."

"Want me to fetch Sarah?"

"No!" Jack cried in sudden alarm. "No," he smiled. "I like your company better. But I'm keeping you from your chores. I don't want to be the cause of Aunt Sarah takin' that broom handle to yer."

"I kin stay a while yet. Only got the yard to sweep and the chickens to feed, that don't take long."

"Specially not with two less mouths to feed, huh?"

Jimmy grinned.

"Tell me about this man Dawson and his hired guns," Jack asked, settling himself back down, deep in the feather bed.

"Well, ain't much more to tell," the boy said, perching on the edge of the bed. "Dawson's rich and a real important man. He owns the biggest spread in all these parts. Last winter, he come over here to talk to everyone, said he wanted to buy the land. Was offering a good price too, Aunt Sarah said..."

He glanced up at Jack. He was listening intently.

"Well, she was all for sellin, but Pa don't wanna. Pa and aunt Sarah came out here on a wagon with Grandma an' Grandpa - I never met them, they died before I was born. And Uncle Sam came too, he was Aunt Sarah's husband, but he died of the fever when I was still young."

Jack smiled at the notion of the ten year old's dim and distant youth.

"Go on," he prodded.

"Well, Pa's folks went first, cos they was old I guess, then Uncle Sam and all my little sisters died, and then mama too and... I think Pa just wants to hold onto the land cause, it was where they all lived together. And now they're all buried together, just over the hill out back."

"Too many ghosts," Jack said sadly. "I think, for once, I agree with your aunt Jimmy. This sounds like a place full of sad memories. You can't stay rooted to one spot just cause of what happened a long time past. You gotta move on with your life. Only trees stay in one spot. And trees get cut down."

"Where are you from, Jack?" Jimmy asked him. The man had gone all quiet and thoughtful again. Jim didn't like to see him sad. He wanted him to laugh again.

Jack looked like he was thinking real hard about the question.

"Kansas," he said after a while.

"Didn't you like it there, Jack? Is that why you left?"

Jack looked down at the quilt, picked at the loose feathers poking through the fabric. "I liked it real well, Jimmy. But things change and you gotta change with em."

"Did your folks die too, Jack?"

"Yes, they did, Jimmy."

"Is that why you left, Jack? Were there too many ghosts for you in Kansas?"

"Yeah Jim," Jack nodded. "Too many ghosts."

Out back, in the sunbaked yard, Sarah scrubbed Johns old red flannel long-johns up against the washboard, hard as she could. Trying to wash out the anger and bitter helplessness as much as the soot and the dirt. Tears rolled down her face and into the tub to mix with the lye that had pickled her hands over the years, turning them red-raw, and hard as old butter-paddles.

She saw John coming into the yard, his rifle over his shoulder. She quickly wiped her sleeve across her face. She couldn't let her brother see her so weak.

"You're taking the gun?" she asked harshly.

"Gotta Sarah. I can't be out there unarmed after last night."

Sarah nodded. "Well, I got my kitchen knife if that young hoodlum in Jimmy's bed decides to cut up rough. Won't be much use if Dawson's men come back, though."

"I doubt if they'll come back today. They like to whoop it up after they've spent the night going after us."

"Think you and the boy'll be alright alone here? Only, I promised Doug and Harry I'd make up a work party today. Lot of weeding to be done up on the top fields."

"You go," she said. "We all gotta stick together in these times."

John nodded and walked away.

Sarah watched him go, and the tears began to flow again.

"...So, with winter just around the corner, Dawson's got all his men up on the hills rounding up strays for this last big drive. So he ain't got the time to come chasin after us the way they used to. That's why he's hired these shootists out of Texas, sos his men can go an git about being cowboys..."

"And them professionals can come after your kin and all the other farmers, huh?"

Jimmy nodded.

"Was your pa a farmer too, Jack?"

Jack nodded.

"Guess you don't like the ranchers none either, then?"

"No, Jimmy. I don't. Not the ranchers, or the bankers, or the railroad men neither. They always hit on the little guys, like your pa. That's how they git so rich and powerful. I take it he's got the sheriff and all the law in his pocket too?"

Jimmy shrugged. "I don't know a whole lot about it Jack, but my pa says he pays people in town a lot of money so's they won't help us."

Jack nodded. He had a real hard, angry look in those big brown eyes of his. "You know, they're the real outlaws Jimmy. Stealin from everyone, taking just what they want and no one to stop em or do a dang thing about it. Well, I reckon, if the regular law won't help, folks have got to help themselves, right?"

Jimmy nodded, not really understanding Jack's meaning, only knowing he liked the man a lot, and whatever he said had to be right.

"OK," Jack leaned back on his pillows, his eyes fixed on some spot in the corner of the ceiling. Jack was thinking hard, Jimmy could tell. He sat and watched and waited to hear what he was gonna say.

"So Dawson's short-handed huh? Relying on hired shootists? Than means one of two things; either he's getting desperate to get you folks out fast, cause good gunmen don't come cheap. Or he's desperate to git his cattle down quick, cause, he thinks the weathers gonna change soon, or maybe he's got a problem with rustlers..." Jack paused to think some more.

"Whatever the reasons, he's got a lot of work to do and he's short-handed. He's fighting on two fronts, Jimmy, and that's not good."

"It ain't?"

"Uh huh," Jack shook his head. "Look what happened to Napoleon. So, we attack him on the weakest of those fronts..."

Jimmy stared at Jack, open-mouthed with wonder. Napoleon? Attack? Was he really suggesting they go fight Dawson? Jimmy was excited, exhilarated and scared, all at once.

"... That would be his cattle. His men are scattered up there. I'd guess they're working in small groups, rounding up them strays and corralling them on the hills till they can drive em all down with the rest of the herd, right?"

Jimmy nodded, not really knowing, but not wanting to interrupt Jack's flow with questions.

"So, here's what we do...We go up there in twos - don't need moren a pair, one to do the job and one to watch his back. Good fast ponies, used to hard terrain to make a getaway. "

"And what do we do?" Jimmy asked.

"We let their cattle out."

"We do?"

"We let them cowboys spend all day rounding em up. There'll only be a few animals, less than a dozen I'd guess in each corral. We wait for night, and when they'll make camp, and they're good and tired cos rounding up cattle's real hard work, we break open the corral, and scatter em, chase em all out back on to the range."

"The cowboys will just shoot us down though, Jack. They're real good shots."

"I doubt if they can hit anything in the dark. And we won't stick around to let em. By the time they hear them beeves stampeding, our boys will be on their ponies and out of there, Jim."

The boy loved it when Jack called him Jim. Made him feel all grown up.

"You a cowboy, Jack?" he asked him. "You sure know a lot about herding cattle..."

"I done a fair bit in my time, Jimmy."

"I thought you said you wuz a farmer?"

"I was, and a cowboy. I done a whole lot of things in my life."

"What do we do next then, Jack?"

"Next night, we hit another bunch, the next night another. We'll break their fences too, and hole their dams. Little things, nothing big, nothing to really rile the law and have Dawson bring the sheriff in. Bring in the sheriff for a few broken fences? That'd make Dawson look real foolish. So, we just keep at em, little by little, night after night.

"Keep em working, keep em on the move, keep em tired. They'll have no time to come worrying farmers cause they'll be so busy. Wear em down and make em mad. And when they're real mad, then they'll come after us. And we'll be ready for em."

"We will?"

"We sure will!"

"What are you doing still here, James Johnson?"

Sarah was standing over the bed with terrible rage in her red, weather-beaten face. Both Jack and young Jimmy had been so caught up in the whirlwind of planning and ideas, neither of them had heard her call, or seen her come into the room.

Jimmy leapt to his feet in fright.

"Mrs Simmons..." Jack smiled ingratiatingly, deflecting her rage off the boy and on to him. "Me and Jimmy were just..."

"I heard what you was 'just' Mr Lawrence. How dare you! How dare you go fillin this boy's head with dangerous notions. You wanna get him killed?"

"No Ma'am! I wanna help you and your people fight this bully Dawson and his hired thugs..."

"Well what would you know about that, Mr Lawrence?"

"A whole lot more'n you think! I got some experience of men like Dawson. I know how they think and I know how to git back at em. Now, I can give you the benefit of my experience, Mrs Simmons, or I can ride out of here and leave you to deal with it yourselves. But, you ask me, you ain't been doin too well in that department up to now."

"We're doing fine. We don't need help from men like you!"

"Well if that's true, than that's grand. But I would suggest you start to organise yourselves and either fight back, or give up and move out, 'cause you ain't gonna win by curlin up in a ball and taking it like you are."

"And you reckon fightin back's something we could do?" she sneered. "Us just a bunch of poor farmers 'gainst them hired guns of his?"

"Yes Ma'am. I do. You just need to get together, organise, watch each other's backs. And a plan. You need a real good plan to work to."  
The woman locked eyes with him. He didn't look away; held her gaze. Weren't too many men could do that with Sarah Simmons.

"OK, Mr Lawrence..."

"Jack. Please."

"Jack," she said, sitting down on the one chair in the room. "I'll listen to what you have to say. But you better explain yourself good and you better be honest with me, cos I kin spot a liar at five hundred paces and if I think for one moment you're lyin' to me..."

"Sarah, I can see you're a smart woman with a good head on her shoulders and I got no intention of trying to bamboozle you none. Just let me explain to you what I'm thinking. When I'm done, you can tell me if you think I've got a workable plan here, or not. OK?"

Sarah gave a sharp, curt nod.

~ ooO0Ooo ~

"Gentlemen, glad you could all make it," John Johnson said, leaning against his mantelpiece, nodding gravely to the men assembling in his cosy room.

"Well I sure hope it's been worth the ride over here John," Deke said. "I've had to leave my wife and kids alone and defenceless."

There were murmurs of assent. John took a breath. He was nervous. He wasn't at all convinced of the wisdom of this. But Sarah was set on it - and it was so uplifting to see the woman gettin a little life and enthusiasm back in her he'd agreed to trust her instincts and call this meeting. Now he wasn't so sure and losing his nerve fast. Sarah herself stood by offering their visitors hot coffee, cornbread and cookies. She nodded to her brother, egging him on.

"Well now friends, neighbours, I know none of you likes being away from home like this so I'll try and make it as brief as I can. Now, I need to introduce you to this here fella..."

Everyone's eyes turned to the dark haired stranger sitting on the rocker in the corner of the room. He nodded a greeting to them all.

"...His name's Jack Lawrence. He came to my home, kinda unexpected like, when I found him by the creek half bled to death on account of someone'd been shooting at him..."  
The men murmured nervously. Everyone had heard rumours of John harbouring some outlaw; this was the first time they'd had it confirmed to them. They looked the stranger over with suspicious curiosity.

"...Now, Jack here ain't with Dawson, and he assures me he ain't no train robber neither..."  
Jack smiled and nodded as reassuringly as he could.

"...So we're gonna assume, since he weren't robbed, that it were Dawson's gunmen what shot him. Probably mistook him for one of us. Now...

"If that's the case, then things have gotten a whole lot more dangerous. It's bad enough Dawson's burning our crops and our barns, shooting our livestock and stopping us going into town for supplies. When his men start targeting us, shooting at us, almost killing young Jack here, well, I reckon the time's come to take action.."

"What you saying, John?" Dougie Smith asked,

"Yeah, what you suggesting we do?" Deke Macleod said. "Cause, I ain't too sure about this young fella's story. I mean, if Dawson was planning to murder us, well he'd a done it. Hell of a lot quicker and easier to shoot us all cold than to go burning our barns and what not."

"Well we can't prove he's burring our crops and our barns can we Deke? Not when we're the only witnesses and the sheriff's refusing to hear our testimonies. He comes in here and kills us all, that's a little harder to cover up, even with the law in his pocket. He'd have to kill all the women and children too. I don't think even Dawson's up to that."  
There were a few nods of agreement to that.

"Thing is gents, our young guest here; well, seems he's had a little experience in this kind of a range war before, and he's got a few ideas that he thinks might help us. Now, I reckon the least we kin do is to give him the floor here, let him tell us what he's planing, then we kin all decide whether we should take him up on his plans, git up off of our bony behinds and fight back!

"Mr Lawrence, do you wanna take over here?"

Jack got up, stiff and slow, still weak and in pain, but all riled up with fire and brimstone and spoiling for a fight with this bully Dawson.

"Well, fellas. it's as simple as this," he said. "You gotta get organised..."

"We already are Mr Lawrence!"

"Well, no Mr Macleod, I don't think that you are, beggin your pardon. You need to get a plan of action and work to it together"

"And you got a plan, is that right?" Sam Wilson drawled.

"Yes Sir. I do..."

"...So you're suggesting that we go up on to Mercer Dawson's own land? And set about riling his hands and that, somehow, is gonna help us in our situation? Is that it Mr Lawrence?" Deke Macleod asked.

"Uh huh," Jack nodded with a smile. "Look, let me explain the philosophy behind all this..."

"No, Mr Lawrence, let me explain the philosophy behind me not wanting to git ma head blowed off!"

"You won't get your head blown off Macleod..."

"No! I'm sorry, Jack. For once I gotta agree with Deke," Harry Van Harlen said. "Them's hard-bit, vicious men. They catch us breaking fences and letting cattle loose, they'll come take it out on us like never before..."

"Exactly!" Jack beamed. "That's what we want them to do!"

"Well now you lost me," Harry said, shaking his head.

"Look. We're attacking Dawson where it hurts him the most, in his pocket. He's having to pay out a lot of money to keep those gunmen on account of all his hands being tied up with the roundup. Time is not on his side, Winter's coming. He's gotta get his cattle rounded up and to the railheads before the weather changes.

"The railroad's coming too. He's gotta get you all off of this land before that gets out. Cos, once those Union Pacific agents get here, he knows a whole lot of you'll sell your land if the price is right. That's why he's keeping you out of town, gents. He don't want you talking to them railroad men. We gotta make his life as hard as we can cos we're playing for time here, gentlemen. Time is the one thing Dawson, rich as he is, don't have.

"Now, he's gonna be riled. He's gonna send his gunmen in here to start shooting and burning. We know that's what he's gonna do, so we can prepare and plan in advance."

"You mean an ambush?" Harry said.

"I mean an ambush, Mr Van Harlen. We defend ourselves, our lives and our property and we take down those fancy hired guns of Dawson's. I'm sure there's not a man here wouldn't want to have a piece of that pie, am I right gents?"

Macleod still shook his head. "It's too dangerous. We all got wives and kids to worry about."

"We're gonna take them before they get anywhere near your homesteads, Deke. It's just a matter of forward planning, being ready. Anticipation is our key word folks. We gotta think like our enemy, think what he's gonna do before he knows it himself, and be ready to strike first when he comes in for an attack.

"We're gonna need to set up rotas for patrols. Organise twenty four hour watches. Get up a series of codewords, passwords and signals that only we can recognise. I'll show you how to set up a series of ropes and wires with bells, strung through the scrub and bushes round here so's we git plenty of warning if anyone's coming in or heading out. We need to buy in some stuff; more guns, ammunition, dynamite... I'll organise that, since you guys will be too conspicuous going in and buying things of that type..."

"Mr Lawrence, can I just ask one thing?" John Johnson said. "How we gonna pay for all of this? We're just poor farmers. What with the damage that's been done to our fields and our property, we're just about broke..."

"Don't you worry about that John," Jack winked. "You leave all of that to me. For now, all I need is a show of hands. I need to know who's with us. Who amongst us here's finally ready to take off his gloves and start hitting back?"

~ ooO0Ooo ~

Jimmy ran all the way from the house to the barn, looking over his shoulder the whole time.

"I got em," the boy whispered, lifting his shirt and pulling a pair of his aunt Sarah's red flannel drawers out from his britches where he'd wound them around his body.

Jack held up the enormous garment with a look of amazement.

"Why does such a skinny woman need such a deal of underwear?" he gaped. Jimmy's grin turned quickly to a look of horror as Jack slipped a knife from his boot and commenced to tear the material at the seams.

"Aunt Sarah's gonna whop me one when she finds out," he said.

"It's OK Jim, I'll tell her I took em," Jack grinned as Jimmy's look grew ever more wide-eyed.

"Oh don't do that! Its bad enough she thinks I been rooting through her laundry. If she thinks you done it, she'll split yer in two like a watermelon."

Jack nodded with a happy grin. "You sure Wednesday's the quietest day in town now?"

"Oh sure!" Jimmy said. "Wednesday's a busy day on the ranch. Day Mr Dawson sets aside for fence mendin and paintin and all kinds of things. You never hardly see no one from the ranch around on a Wednesday. That's why all the farmers do their marketing then. S'the only safe day there is."

"OK, what you think?" Jack asked, wrapping a large, neatly cut square of red cotton around his neck in the manner of Dawson's men.

Jimmy nodded. "You sure look like one of them, right enough," he said, watching his friend uncertainly, noting the gun tied low on Jack's hip, the easy way he wore the weapon. Doubts, like storm clouds, began creeping across his mind.

Jack looked just like a red bandanna. It wasn't just the piece of cloth round his neck either. Now he was up and more or less strong and dressed, and had his gun back, he had a swagger and a confidence that made Jimmy uneasy. Jack just looked too comfortable, too easy, dressed that way. He didn't look like a farmer, or a cowboy neither. He looked like a gunman, born and bred.

Jimmy began to wonder if Jack was really who he said. If anything he had told him had been the truth.

~ ooO0Ooo ~

"Howdy!" Jack grinned, tipping his hat as he stepped into the Bitter Creek General Mercantile. He felt the tension, the fear of folks around him - a change in the air, that rolled like a wave around him wherever he went. He could understand why men like Falmouth enjoyed abusing the power their position lent. Despite himself, he couldn't help enjoying the self-assurance, the sense of authority he felt in this costume.

But he put on his broadest, brightest, most amiable smile for the twitchy gentleman behind the counter as he bought their entire stock of firearms, consisting of twelve Colt revolvers and seven Henry rifles. Also three hundred rounds of ammunition for the Colts, five hundred rifle cartridges, accoutrements for same; cleaning oil, cloths, pipes etc. He purchased their entire stock of dynamite, fuse wire and blasting caps. Bought about a mile of good hemp rope, a roll of barbed wire, a quantity of gunpowder and provisions enough to feed a small army through a bad winter. Then, when everything was loaded on the wagon to his satisfaction, he tipped his hat again, beamed his best smile and charged the whole lot to Mr Dawson's account before riding his wagon out of town.

~ ooO0Ooo ~

"So what's going on Joe?" Dawson yelled at his foreman across the plush mahogany desk. "Cattle are being let out every night..."

Joe shuffled from foot to foot, unable to tell Dawson why they had failed to catch the perpetrators, and too stupid to invent a half-decent lie.

"Sir, it's, it's all we kin do to keep up with em. They jest seem to appear an' disappear like they wuz thin air. We don't know what's goin on..."

"Fences down, dams holed, cattle roaming the range. Goddammit Joe! We got three weeks left before we gotta start that drive."

"Yes sir Mr Dawson, I know and..."

"And now this!" Dawson waved the bill from the Bitter Creek General Mercantile. "Hundreds of dollars worth of weapons, ammunition, explosives! What are them sodbusters up to? Sounds like they're planning a second Gettysburg up there!"

"Yes sir, I don't know sir, I mean, it's all down to this guy them farmers've hired. He's got em all organised, keeping watch on all the trails in and out. I sent Curry and MacPherson in with two of the ranch boys to burn up Johnson's wheat fields," he shook his head. "They never got within half a mile of the place. Them farmers got the drop on em from the trees up there, real smooth ambush. Professional."

"You ain't tellin me anything I don't already know, Joe!"

"No one knows how they came to hire this man, who he is, where...,"  
"Irrelevant information, Falmouth! I don't need to know his name, I just want him stopped!"

"Stopped, Mr Dawson?"

"Why am I payin you three hundred dollars a month? It's about time you and your men got off of their behinds, got down there to that township and gave em all what for. I want this disruption to cease and I want them nesters off that land by the end of next week."

"Yes Sir, Mr Dawson! You leave it to me sir. And I'll git on to dealin with that fella right away..."  
"No Falmouth," Dawson said. "You just get on with sortin out them rustlers. I'll see to this man they've hired myself."

"You will, Sir?"

Dawson nodded thoughtfully. "The man's no fool. He'll be well protected up there. This is a job needs a little more finesse than you and your gunnies got in yer."

Falmouth nodded, uncertainly.

"Go on Joe, git about your business."

"Yes sir, thank you sir," Falmouth said, sweeping his hat from the desk and hurrying out."

Kid Curry stood leaning against the bunkhouse wall, deep in thought, swigging at a bottle of whiskey, giving the chickens in the yard the benefit of his angriest, most miserable, expression.

"Didn't figure you for a drinker when I hired you, boy," Dawson called marching down on him.

Kid glared at the man.

_'Damn him_!' Dawson thought to himself. _The boy showed no deference or respect for his employer. Always sullen and surly. Goddammit, if he wasn't so good with that gun he'd have sent him packing weeks ago._

"I want a word with you, Curry," Dawson snapped, furious at the way the boy would stare so.

"If it's about that mess up last night, I can tell you they've got someone helping them, someone who knows what he's doing..."

"That's what I want to talk to you about. In private, if you please. You come on over to the house. We'll talk in my study."

Kid answered with a curt nod. A private meeting suited him fine, cos he'd got a few words he wanted to say to Mr Dawson himself, and they weren't the kind of things he wanted the other hands to hear.

Kid shrugged himself off the wall and slouched off after the man.

Dawson ushered the young man into his study, showing him to a heavy leather armchair and offering him a cigar.

Kid's eyes narrowed in suspicion, wondering what he was gonna say to him. But he did sit, and took a cigar.

Dawson sat down heavily at his desk, rubbing at his temples, tired to the bone. "This man the sodbusters have hired," he said. "What do you know about him?"  
Kid shrugged. "Only what the rest of you know..."

"Got a look at him?"

Kid shook his head. "His name's Jack Lawrence. They say he's a dark haired fella, medium height, slim, cocky way with him. Not much to go on, description'd fit half the men you got around here."

"I want _you_ to go get him."

"Get him?"

"Kill him."

Kid shook his head. "I ain't a killer."

"You're whatever I say you are boy!"

"No, Mr Dawson, sir, I ain't!" Kid snapped back, eyes ablaze. Dawson shifted back in his chair, as if trying to put a few extra inches of safety between him and the young gunman.

Kid got up and began to pace the room. He'd had a lot to drink and the words that had been building in him this past six weeks came easily off his tongue.

"Mr Dawson, this ain't the job I came here to do. Now, I was told when I signed up to you down in Taos that you needed protecting, needed good gun hands to bodyguard you because you were being threatened on account of a range war. But that ain't the case now is it? These fellas you're fighting, they're just dirt farmers. And I hear you're after buying their land. Why? Is it water rights? The railroad? Is that land gonna be worth a lot to you Mr Dawson? "

"I don't see what any of this is to you, son! You signed on to do a job. You're contracted to me, all water tight, iron bound and legal. Now, you're being very well paid to do a job of work and I expect you to do that job..."

"No sir! I was hired as a bodyguard but I ain't bodyguarding you am I? I ain't hardly seen you since I got here six weeks ago. Seems to me I've been hired to terrorise a bunch of poor farmers who ain't a threat to no one..."

"Don't you raise your voice to me boy!" Dawson said, getting to his feet, his voice quiet with menace. "I hired you for your reputation with a gun. If my foreman mis-represented the job to you, you better take it up with him. But I'm telling you, you're signed to a contract with me. You try and break that contract, I'll have the law on you. And I don't think you want me to do that. See, the boys in the bunkhouse think you're just a two bit gunny like them - little more skilled I grant yer, but a hired gun all the same. But I know better. I know you got a price on your head down south, Curry. I ain't said nothing to Joe because I know he'd shoot his own sister if she were worth a quarter of what's being offered on you.

"So, you're gonna do that job I'm asking of you. See, I can get one of my other boys to do it, it's all the same to me, son. But if you refuse me, well... I might just let slip to Joe and his boys just what you're worth to the law down in Texas or New Mexico.

"So you ride on out of here, if that's what you wanna do. But it's a long, hard trail across them mountains to Colorado, and me and my boys know this country a whole lot bettern you. If I get a posse up against yer, you can be sure, I'll find you. I'll run you down, boy."

Kid fixed the man with his blue eyes, but the edge had gone out of him. He knew the boss meant business. If he rode out, Dawson'd have a posse up inside an hour. He was like a wasp in a jam trap, no way out.

"I didn't sign on to bully sodbusters, Mr Dawson. And I surely didn't sign on to go killin'..."

"But that's what you're gonna do, son."

"Why don't you ask Joe or Flynn, they'd enjoy it..."

"Because I need a man who can take the guy out clean, one shot. Joe and his gunnies'd kill half the farmers up there in the attempt. I'd have a hell of a time getting that one past the Governor. No boy, I want you. You do it any way you want, so long as it ends with that farmer's hired troublemaker cold and in the ground, y'hear?

"Now, you do this one little job for me, do it right, and I'll let you go. I'll burn your contract. That's a promise."

"I kill the sodbuster's hired gun, and you'll let me ride out of here scot free?"  
"Yup".

Curry didn't believe a word of it. He took up his hat and went out into the hot night without a word.

~ ooO0Ooo ~

With a grimace, Kid stretched out his cramped legs; shifted to ease the numbness building in his elbows and the dull, cold ache that had started in his chest and was now threatening to take over his entire body. He abandoned his watchful position for the first time in hours, allowing himself the luxury of rolling on to his back and looking at the stars.

Stars! The beginning of a third night lying here on the hard ground in this gully by Van Harlen's farm, watching for those darn farmers Simpson, the store owner, had told him would be meeting here. He wondered briefly if Simpson had set him up, but dismissed the thought; the man was too scared of Falmouth and his cronies to lie. And too fond of the money he was getting paid to wanna play games like that.

Kid let out a quiet sigh. Two days and nights without a fire or a blanket, chewing on jerky, barely moving for fear of being spotted. He guessed Dawson would be starting to sweat some too, even though Kid'd told him it might take a day or two when he explained his plan to him. He only hoped the boss hadn't panicked, thinking he'd run out on him and set that posse loose.

_Maybe the meeting's called off?_ Kid thought. _Maybe the farmers knew Simpson was passing on information to Dawson? _He checked his gun for the fiftieth time in two days. _Guess them farmers are smarter..._

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of voices; two men talking quietly to each other as they came along the road.

Kid flipped back on to his belly and lay silent. Hidden by the steep slope, he listened...

"...She ain't here, Wilson. Harry sent her and his kids away to Cheyenne till all of this is over one way or another. Figured the way things was going, specially when he saw what they done to poor Deke, he oughta git Marsha and the little uns out of harm's way..."

"Sure is quiet around here without the women and kids. Quiet like a grave. I don't like it."

"Do put the shivers up yer don't it? Glad I ain't got no kin to worry me none."

"I'm sending my Mary and little Joey out to stay with friends up-river in Benton tomorrow. I don't figure things is gonna git any safer around here. Not the way this new fella's been pushing things.."

The voices receded down the road. Kid pushed his hat back on his head and breathed again. So Van Harlen's place was empty apart from the men meeting here? Good. That would make his job a whole lot easier.

He eased himself down the steep sided gully and along the dry stream bed, careful and slow; avoiding the ropes - the little bell traps he'd noted and stepped past along the road when he rode in. His instincts had told him there'd be more of them here. They were just like the fox traps his pa used to rig up in the corn back home.

Leaving his horse tied in the gully, he scrambled up the sheer, crumbling slope and stood a while, hidden in the deep shade of a stand of pines, watching and waiting. The only lights around were in the big red barn that stood close by the little wooden farmhouse.

He watched the farmers come along the road; some on foot, others in wagons, or on mules or horses. He recognised most of the faces as he counted them all in - practically every sodbuster left in Bitter Creek was going to that meeting.

Kid smiled, thinking them men didn't know how lucky they were having him here. If Dawson'd sent Joe and his thugs to do the job - they'da gone in there and shot every man jack of em. Worse; maybe fixed the doors and fired the place. Sure would take care of all of Dawson's troubles Kid thought with a shudder.

When he was sure no more men were going to arrive, and could hear the muffled voices of the meeting getting underway, he slipped silently across the yard, plunging into the deep shadows of the porch - found a window there unlatched _(careless!) _and slipped inside.

He found himself in a small neat bedroom. The scent of lavender water still lingered on the white linen sheets. This must be the room Van Harlen shared with his wife. Good man, Kid thought, sending his family away like that. No one could guarantee the safety of their wife and kids with this war going on.

Kid smiled a little as he glanced around the sparsely furnished room. Sweet and spotless - a little like the room his ma and pa had back home in Kansas - second time inside an hour he'd thought of home.

He found a chair, set it down by the window, and sat watching the barn.

_Wonder how long this meeting's gonna take_, he thought to himself. He took out his watch - too dark to read - put it away and leaned his stiffening gun arm on the window ledge.

He sure was hungry! The jerky he'd been chewing on these past days hadn't even begun to take the edge off of it. He was thirsty, too. He'd been limiting his water for fear of running out and to reduce the need to go pee.

_Wonder what they're saying in there?_ He thought of slipping over and listening in - but that would be too risky. He didn't want to incite a shootout. He'd come for one man. One man was all he intended to take on.

But he sure as hell didn't know what he was gonna do with him when he'd got him. He'd given it plenty of thought, waiting it out in that damn gully with precious little else to occupy his mind. The best plan seemed to be to get the guy trussed up, take him way out of town, put him on a cattle train and hope the fella didn't take it into his head to come back. It was a risky course of action, he knew that. but short of actually going ahead and shootin the guy, he couldn't think what else to do with him.

But even if he was stupid enough to come back to Bitter Creek, Kid would be long gone. Would have to be. He wouldn't wanna still be on the Beth'lem ranch when Dawson found out he'd not shot the guy.

And anyways, he had to catch the fella first. Kid took his gun out again, opened the barrel, checked it for the fifty-first time...

Voices snapped him out of a fitful doze. _Sheesh! He'd fallen asleep!_ Lucky for him them farmers couldn't seem to keep their mouths shut. He watched as they emerged, light spilling from inside the barn, lighting faces and attitudes - a solemn, subdued air about them. Didn't seem like they'd heard much to cheer em at this meeting. Kid counted them all out, till everyone who'd come down the road this evening had gone back the way they came. He hadn't seen the leader arrive and no strangers had left, so his man must still be in there. He slipped gracefully out of the window and padded, silent as a cougar, to the barn - And only just managed to get back into the shadows as Harry Van Harlen shuffled out into the light, right in front of him, walking in that half-limping way he had.

"Just give me a minute, Jack, gotta get my coat..." he called to the barn.

Kid leaned back into the darkness, heart beating an Indian war dance; so loud he was sure each and every thump of it could be heard halfway to Cheyenne.

"...It's gittin so cold now, and we're gonna be out there a good long while," Harry finished as he shuffled off towards the house. Kid hesitated, just for a moment, then, making a sudden decision, he moved fast, dashing through the shadows to the house, back through the open window. He took out his Colt, lying in wait behind the door.

Harry walked in a moment later and Kid grabbed him, tight and fast around the mouth, holding his gun to Harry's neck.

"Now, Harry," Kid whispered. cocking his weapon close to Harry's ear. "No noise, Cos I don't wanna kill yer." Harry immediately became stiff and still in Kid's arms.

"Good man," Kid said, "Now, no heroics please..." Kid ran his left quickly over the farmer's body to be sure he had no weapons on him. "OK. You and me are gonna be quiet as mice together, right?"  
Harry nodded, barely breathing he was so scared. Kid pushed the man down into a chair, and bound him tight with some of the rope he'd brought to tie Jack Lawrence.

He crouched down then, looking the terrified farmer in the eyes. The little light in the room from the stove's last flickering embers glinted in Kid's blue eyes as he locked his gaze with the terrified farmer and pushed his bandanna into the man's mouth.

"Now Harry. I'm awful sorry 'bout all this. I promise to drop a line to the sheriff in Bitter Creek to come git yer soon as I can. But I've got a job to do, and I can't have you gittin in my way and gettin yourself gettin' shot up in the process, you understand?"

Harry made no sign of having heard or understood. Just sat, staring at Kid, eyes wide with terror. Kid nodded with satisfaction, tipped his head to the man and slipped back out through the bedroom window, headed for the brightly lit barn.

Skirting the light still shining out across the yard, and keeping to the dark side of the big wooden building, he leaned his back against the pine boards, his gun in his hand and waited.

Two minutes later, the lamps were extinguished; one, two, three... and Harry's farmyard plunged into the deep, moonless dark of the surrounding woods and fields. Kid held his breath.

A moment later, a man emerged; his white shirtsleeves clearly visible in the dark night. He paused to pull on a jacket and at that moment, his attention distracted and his arms pinned, half in and half out of the garment - Kid stepped up behind him and cocked his gun. The man raised his hands the moment he felt the touch of cold metal behind his ear.

"Good man," Kid whispered, taking the man's gun from it's holster, putting it into his own. Kid pushed his prisoner back into the barn. Slipping his own gun into his belt, he shook out a folded flour sack he'd had in his coat pocket for the purpose, and threw it over the man's head.

"Hey!" The muffled voice yelled in shock and surprise; dissolving a moment later in coughs and splutters from the flour and lint inside the sack.

"Jack, I'm sorry for the inconvenience and all..." Kid said as he wound a rope around the man, pinning his arms to his body, binding him tight in the sack like Cleopatra in her carpet.

"...But I can't have you seeing where it is we're going and I need to know you ain't gonna try to git away or do anything stupid and make me haveta shoot ya."

But Jack, coughing and choking from the dust lodging in his throat, was still defiant. "You start shootin and you're gonna bring the whole farm down on yer!"

Kid grinned. "Nice try Jack. Credit to ya! But there's no one here, I already checked. If you mean poor old Harry, he's sittin cosy by his own fireside, trussed tight as a Thanksgivin turkey."

Kid wound the rope down around Jack's legs, pinioning his knees together. Jack toppled over into the straw.

Curry leaned close to the bound man, surprised by how slight the guy was - he'd pictured someone more impressive.

"Jack," he said. "I got no intention of hurtin' yer, but you gotta promise me not to holler or do anything stupid, OK?"

"There's guards on every road around," Jack gasped. "You'll never make it outta here"

Kid chuckled. "Well, thanks for the warning an all, Jack, but I'm a pretty good shot and my gun fires two bullets."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well you stick around and I'll give you a demonstration."

"You seem like a pretty smart fella. Think about what you're doing. You can't hope to get away with this..."

Kid prodded his gun into the man's side - he flinched and fell silent.

"Jack, anyone ever tell you, you talk too much? C'mon, we're movin' out. Now, remember what I said. I don't wanna hear another peep outta yer. You start yappin again and I'm gonna have ta shoot yer. OK?"

No sound. Kid nudged him hard.

"OK?" he asked again.

"You said not another peep."

Kid couldn't help but smile. "Hmmm. Wise guy huh?"

Grabbing a hold of the rope, Kid pulled the trussed man into a sitting position. He hoisted him up over his shoulder and carried him out to the gully where his horse was waiting, head hanging down in the chill night air. Kid got high side of her and shunted his prisoner up across the saddle.

Jack grunted in pain. Kid patted him on his back.

"Sorry Jack. S'gonna be a little uncomfortable for yer for a while yet." Kid said as he mounted up behind him and rode out, cross country, away from the road and those annoying little bells.

~ ooO0Ooo ~

It was just over an hour's ride through the woods and across a wide fallow field to Deke Macleod's farm. The place hadn't been empty long but it already had a forlorn and haunted look. The stench of wet smoke and charcoal still hung in the from the fire that had finally driven Deke to sell up and move out.

Kid led his laden horse into the barn, pulling the trussed man down into a heap of musty hay.

_And now for the tricky bit,_ he thought. _What __**was**__ he gonna do with the guy?_ Getting him on the train seemed a lot tougher now that he was faced with actually doing it. He couldn't haul a man tied and trussed that way halfway across the territory, and anyhow, how was he gonna get him on the train?

Nope. Now he'd had a little time to think some more he realised the plan kinda depended on Jack co-operating in his own abduction and he really didn't think he'd go along with that.

Maybe he could persuade him? Make him see sense? See that Dawson wasn't never gonna let him carry on the way he was, and the only way to stay alive was to get out of Wyoming.

Kid paced up and down as he thought; nervously cocking and un-cocking his gun, his eyes never leaving the man in the hay.

The man in the hay, meanwhile, was thinking thoughts of his own. Mostly concerning what this gunny of Dawson's intended to do with him. If indeed, that was who he was. He couldn't imagine why anyone else would have jumped and tied him this way, but then, he couldn't understand why one of Dawson's Red Bandannas would either. Why hadn't he just shot him back at the farm?

Jack was wallowing in a sea of confusion. He was real tired - he'd had precious little sleep these past few weeks, he couldn't hardly breathe with all this dust and hemp in his lungs - and the way this fella was pacing about, fiddling with his gun that way, well - it was making him mighty nervous. He almost wished the guy would just shoot him if he was gonna. Why was he prolonging the agony like this?

He tensed as he caught the pungent scent of a match, the smell of candle wax. Light filtered through the coarse weave of the sacking wrapped around his head and he could now see the shadowy figure of his kidnapper as he crouched down in front of him.

He saw the glint of metal - a knife? Oh lord. Of course. Bring him to a remote and silent spot and slit his throat - nice and quiet. No one would find his body all the way out here, not for a good long while. He tried not to pant, didn't want his killer to hear his fear.

The guy lifted the knife towards his head. Here it comes then, he thought. Oh God, Oh no. Oh God! He shut his eyes.

"OK, Jack," the guy said. "We're a long way from the road an' a long way from Harry's farm. You can shout and holler all you like, no one's gonna hear ya. So I'm gonna cut you out of there so's you kin breathe a bit better, then you and me are gonna have a little talk."

And with that, Kid sliced through the sacking around Jack's head, pulling it away - pulling on his long hair, making him cry out;

"Ow, hey watch it!"

"Sorry..." Kid said, automatically, despite the absurdity of the situation...

Letting loose a gasp of dumbfounded recognition of that voice - even as his prisoner said his first words without the sack around his face - lifting blue eyes, wide with shock and consternation into his prisoner's all too familiar face - which was likewise frozen in stunned stupefaction.

"Heyes?"

"Dear God, it _is_ you!"

Kid slumped back on his heels, trying to take it in.

Heyes did what he always did. He talked. "I thought, I mean, I heard that voice and I thought, I mean it sounded... but it couldn't... how in God's name? I mean... Why?"

"Why?"

"Are you working for Dawson?"

Kid looked away, ashamed - but never would admit it, certainly not to Heyes.

Three years it had been. Three years, three months, to be exact, since he and Heyes had split up down in Texas. And what had they been fighting over? What was the earth shattering thing that split up a lifetime partnership?

Nothing. Just one more stupid argument over nothing at all. It was just that it was the five-hundredth argument that week, to add to the five hundred from the week before and still more before that.

"Amarillo" Kid said out loud.  
"Huh...?"

Heyes stopped in mid flow and Kid suddenly realised that, while he'd been sitting there, lost in thought, Heyes had been talking away, no one listening 'cept Heyes himself... Nothing changes, Kid mused.

Nothing changes...? He looked Heyes over, sitting there, still trussed and tied. He had changed some; broadened; thickened out a little - he'd got some muscles now, though he was still too thin. Still wore his hair long. Still went clean shaven. Same face, same dimple the ladies went crazy for. Same big flappin' mouth - hell, he hadn't hardly changed at all!

Kid took the knife up off the floor where he'd dropped it and reached out to cut Heyes bonds.

"Amarillo," he repeated as he sliced the ropes from his former partner's body.

"What about it?" Heyes gasped, grimacing as the ties slid from him and he sat, back, curled in on himself, rubbing at his limbs and body; cramps and pins and needles giving him grief all over.

"I was wonderin' if you ever went ahead and done that bank job you had all planned out?" Kid said, slumping down in the hay, slipping the knife into his boot, but keeping hold of his gun. "The one down in Rock Ridge?"

Heyes thought a while, a puzzled frown creasing his brow. Then a big smile lit across his face and he nodded. Yeah, he remembered now. Remembered that was what the fighting started over that night back in '73. In a seedy room above a saloon in Amarillo, Texas.

"Well, I couldn't now, could I?" he grinned. "Job needed two and you walked out."

"It was a stupid idea and it woulda got us both killed."

"I know."

Kid looked at Heyes in surprise.

"Realised that the minute you walked out," Heyes smiled. "Well, hour, two maybe, after you'd left. Realised what an idiot I'd been. Came out to tell you so, but you were gone. I looked. Looked every damn where, but I never found you."

"Got on a train an hour and twenty minutes after we parted. Sat in the saloon an hour and ten. Got pretty drunk too as I recall. I waited for you to show. When you didn't..." Kid shrugged. "There was a train and I took it as far as my money'd allow."

"Where was that?"

"Roswell, New Mexico."

"What is there in Roswell, New Mexico?"

"Not a whole lot."

"Then, why didn't you come back?"

Kid stared down at his gun, opening and closing it, turning the barrel in his fingers. He knew what Heyes musta thought. That it was just pig-headed pride and stubborness. There was a fair bit of that involved, but it wasn't the real reason.

Most of the time they'd been together, Kid had been a kid. But he was eighteen when they split. He was a grown man! Trying to be. But Heyes wouldn't let him. He'd been big-brothering him so long he just couldn't let go and it was bugging Kid bad. He'd needed to make that break with his partner. Needed to get away so's he could find himself, take care of himself. Find his own ways of doing things.

He looked hard into Heyes' dark eyes.

"When you came into the room that night," he said, "Drunk, grinnin away - half outta your mind it seemed to me, I knew you was gonna be bending my ear halfway to sunup with another of your plans. We'd been on the road three days as I recall and I was so tired..."

"No moren' me. And I'd been playing poker while you were napping on the bed..."

"...Tired from the trail but mostly tired of you, Heyes."

That wiped the smile off. 'Bout time too! Hell, Heyes was his prisoner. 'Bout time he started acting like one.

Then Heyes started to talking again.

"Well, I know we was both getting mighty irritable with one another, Kid, but..."

Kid sprung to his feet and started pacing the room like before, flipping his gun this way and that. Heyes watched him nervously. The man positively glowed with latent danger. Heyes could see how he got his reputation.

Kid stopped all of a sudden, slumped back down on a straw bale and gave Heyes another of those phenomenal glares he was so good at.

"Irritable? Is that what you thought I was? IRRITABLE?"

Heyes flinched back with the force of Kid's anger. He opened his mouth but for once, there was nothing there to come out.

"Heyes, how long'd we been together at that point?"

Heyes smiled nervously. "Well you know, all our lives..."

"All our lives." Kid nodded, looked down as he went back to playing with his gun. When he looked back at Heyes, his eyes were so full of hurt - such a depth of pain in there_. Dear God_, Heyes thought. _Whatever had he done to him, to make him feel so badly towards him? _

"Eighteen years. And for most of that time, I was just a little kid and you took good care of me, Heyes. You really did, 'specially after everything that happened and we got sent to the home and all. And I was grateful. Truly I was. But I took care of you too. More so the older we got 'cause you were always gettin' yourself in so much trouble, flying off on them fancies of yours..."

"I can't believe you're still brooding about that damn Rock Ridge job after all these years..."

"It ain't got nothing to do with the Rock Ridge job!"

Kid's voice near brought Deke's barn roof down, all burned and leaking as it was. Shocked Heyes into silence anyhow and that was a miracle in itself, Kid thought as he looked at his friend.

Heyes felt those eyes were going to burn a hole right through him. He sat back in the hay; decided he'd best hold his peace till Kid'd talked himself out.

"...That was just the last in a long line of straws, Heyes. Now, I told you when we rode out of that little town after casing that bank, there was no way we could do that job and get out of there alive. There was three roads out, none of which made for fast riding, woulda lamed the horses if we'd a gone moren a trot. The roads all headed over them flat prairie fields. No rocks, no hills, no trees. Not even a gully, or a patch of scrub for miles. Where were we gonna run to Heyes? Where were we gonna hide?

"That's if we got out of town. There were more corners, balconies, dog legs and porches than I can remember. There was no way out of that town that didn't lead us smack into an ambush. All it needed was for someone in the bank to fire off a gun or scream, or do anything to alert the law and we'd a been dead meat!

"But you wouldn't listen! You were so fired up on how easy it woulda been to get in there and out again in two minutes flat you never thought about what was coming next. How we were gonna get out of town. That was my department and you weren't listening to me!

"And that hurt, Heyes. Because I thought you trusted me and respected my opinion. But that night, when you came back from that saloon, your pockets full of money and so darn smug and cocky and full of yourself, there was no reasoning with yer. And that's when I knew you were never gonna think of me as anything other than a kid. Your _'little cousin'_ whose job it was to keep his mouth shut and his brain on hold and do just as he was told and never, ever question your damn silly schemes. And I knew it was time to split up. Cos you weren't never gonna let me grow up..."

"Well then why didn't you say something, _'cousin'..._?"

The way Heyes said it; cut through Kid like a knife through the heart. He could've used the worst insult in his impressively wide vocabulary, the worst cuss word imaginable, and it would've hurt a whole lot less than that _'cousin'_ did Curry.

"...All you had to do was open your mouth and talk to me!" Heyes yelled. "You didn't have to threaten me like you did. I mean, this is nothing to that little display you put on back in Amarillo. I really did think you was gonna kill me..."

"Oh wanted to. Believe me!"

"...Bad as it was, I coulda took your temper, I had plenty of times before that. We coulda slept on it..."

Kid flashed that ice stare on him again. Near made Heyes' heart stop cold in his chest. When he spoke again, his voice was so quiet. "You didn't trust my judgement, Heyes. I thought the one thing I could rely on was our trust in each other. You showed me I was wrong. And that's why I left."

Heyes sighed. "I was just a little drunk is all," he said, persuasively. "Next morning, everything woulda been OK. You didn't have to walk out on me."

"Goddamit Heyes, you were never gonna realise I was grown! You seemed to think you had to keep watching over me and thinking for me and I needed to get away so's I could grow up and be a man. And I never coulda done that with you around, Heyes."

Heyes stared at the ground, playing with the straw. "I can't understand why didn't you just tell me all this at the time?" he asked after a too-long silence, his voice catching and quiet. "Mighta saved us both a lot of pain."

"Would it have done any good? You'd stopped paying attention to me. I don't know when it happened. When we broke out of the home and went on the road, we was partners, but... it was sometime after we started thieving; for real. Not petty stuff, taking food and that limping thing you used to do to get folks to give us money..."  
Heyes grinned at that memory, the smile dying on his face when he caught the sadness in Kid's blue eyes.

"I mean hold-ups. Robbing banks. When did all that start, anyhow?"

Heyes shrugged. "Just happened. One thing leading to another..." he shrugged again, looked up at his friend, trying to read his mind in his eyes. "What did you do? When you got to Roswell?"

"Got a job guarding a group of men heading to a silver mine they had in Nevada. Had to use my gun a couple of times along the way. Word got around how good I was. Ended up getting hired out to some guy mired in a range war."

"I heard you was running with Molone's boys a while."

"Didn't last long. Didn't like their style."

"I heard he got pretty rough with some of the folks he robbed."

Kid nodded. "Yeah, well, one job kinda ended in a fight, kinda..."

"Heard someone shot Molone in the leg."

"Heard that same guy shot one-eye Red Miller too."Kid said nothing, he looked at the floor.

"Heard the same guy got into a showdown with Sam Parfitt. Got Parfitt in his gun arm then almost got himself shot to death by the rest of Parfitt's boys..."

"Yeah, Heyes, you clearly followed my career with interest!"

Kid seemed rattled. Was he ashamed of what he'd become, Heyes wondered? Or was it that he never knew his former partner'd been watching him so close all these years?

"I never stopped thinking about you, you know," Heyes said.

Kid just went on looking at the ground, playing with his gun - wouldn't lift his eyes to Heyes'.

"You was riding with Don Tooley last I heard," Heyes went on. "That's a pretty big name to be linking yourself to. How'd you end up working for Dawson?"

"I walked out on Tooley."

"Why?"

"Nothing."

"What? Fighting over money? A job? A girl...?"

Kid looked up then looked away, embarrassed.

"Not a girl?" Heyes positively bubbled with laughter. "Oh! Kid! You never change, God love yer!"

"Well I been watching you too, Heyes," Kid said, defensively. "You gone pretty big time, riding with Big Jim Santana and the Devil's Hole boys. What you worth now? Moren me I'll bet!"

Heyes shook his head. "I'm not with Big Jim..."

"You run into trouble yourself, huh? Figured as much. I mean, if you was still with the Devil's Hole Gang, what you doing in Bitter Creek, Wyoming with a bunch of sodbusters...?"

"Hey!" Heyes snapped. "Our folks were farmers in case you'd forgotten."

Kid nodded. "I hadn't forgotten," he said, quietly.

"I ain't left Devil's Hole. Jim got took. Job over in Cheyenne went wrong, he got hit in the leg coming out. Currently doing a seven year sentence in the Wyoming state prison."

Kid whistled, shook his head. "So who's leading those boys now?"

"I am."

Though Kid's surprise at the news was hugely gratifying, Heyes' affected not to notice. Trying hard to keep the pride and conceit out of his voice, he went on;

"I'm just temporarily laid up here. Got shot up doing a job."

"Not the payroll train?"

Heyes nodded.

"Oh ho!" Curry clapped his hands with a grin. "That was _you_? You've no idea how mad Dawson was when he realised someone had broke through all the veils of secrecy he draws over them trains. Ah! I shoulda known it was you," Kid smiled fondly. "Just the kind of job you would pull, Heyes."

"What, one that goes so wrong we fail to get any money, get chased by a posse and I get myself shot up in the process? That what you think of me?"  
Kid's smile spread into a happy grin. And watching him, Heyes couldn't help but grin too.

"Yeah, well," Heyes went on. "One of them farmers, man called Johnson, found me, patched me up and I saw they needed help, so... You still haven't told me why you're working for an evil bastard like Dawson?"

"I got tricked," Kid snapped, suddenly angry. "Thought I was bodyguardin him against some other ranchers. "

"I notice you don't deny he is an evil bastard," Heyes smiled.

Kid grinned. "No, I don't deny that."

"What's he holdin over you? He knows who y'are I suppose. What? He threaten you with the sheriff?"

Kid looked up at Heyes again, wondering how the man could be so damn astute. Maddening it was, the way he seemed to know everything. Sometimes felt like he could read your mind. He nodded and went back to playing with his gun.

"But that can't hurt you can it? I thought you was only wanted in Texas...?"

"And New Mexico."

Heyes smiled. "Both a long way away. Law in Wyoming can't touch you."

"Falmouth'd be moren' happy to ride to Texas and back for the little that's on my head. Sheriff too. Nothing to stop him sending a wire south and claiming the reward."

"Hm!" Heyes grunted. "And what if you'd got protection? If you went to ground with some good gun hands around you so's Dawson and his tame lawmen couldn't get near enough to hurt you?"

Kid looked up. Heyes had got that sly smile, that gleam in his eye.

"What you plottin now, Heyes?"

"Why don't you come over to our side?"

"What?"

"You ain't like the other fellas, them Red Bandannas of Dawson's'"

"How'd you know I ain't? You ain't seen me in three years..."

"Aw Kid! You ain't changed that much. You're not a thug, or a killer like Falmouth. And you're a farm boy too. You oughta be working for us..."

"Working for you is what you mean!"

"No! No!" Heyes shook his head vehemently; indignation raising his voice a register. Made Kid smile, Heyes getting that squeaky sound he always got when he was being ornery, or worried, or concerned. "We'd be equal partners!"

"Uh huh. Like we used to be before you started to push me around and tell me what to do?"

Kid was getting angry again. Heyes smiled, laid a hand on his arm to calm him. "Sure wouldn't be able to push you around now. Look at you! Can't believe you're that same skinny kid I knew."

"I'm not joining up with you, Heyes."

Heyes let his arm fall. "Why?" he asked softly.

"Because I'm my own man now. I make my own decisions..."

"Well, you would here too! I'm only asking you to change sides, I'm not asking you to leave your manhood behind at Dawson's place!"

Big mistake! He knew it soon as he'd said it. The look in Kid's eyes confirmed that to him.

Kid got to his feet, all wounded dignity and hurt pride. He checked his gun and re-holstered it, then walked to his horse.

"I'll leave you your gun," Kid said, "but I'm taking your horse. Should take you till sunup to walk back to wherever it is you said you're holed up. You won't be loosing any cattle or firing any hayricks tonight. "

"You're leaving me my gun?" Heyes snarled sarcastically. "Aren't you afraid I'll shoot you in the back?"

Kid flashed him a look of white hot temper.

"What are you gonna tell Dawson?" Heyes sneered. "Man's gonna be pretty riled at you letting me go this way..."

Kid was smouldering so bad Heyes could almost smell the scorching.

"If you've any sense at all in that head of yours, Heyes I suggest you ride back to Devil's Hole fast as you can. And before you do, you tell them farmers to sell up to Dawson. He's offering over the going rate. They won't do any better."

Heyes leapt to his feet. The two men stood, hands on hips, eyeball to eyeball, glaring each other down.

"Oh and just let the sneaking, thieving, murdering polecat get away with everything he's done huh?"

"Yeah. That's exactly what you should do, Heyes!"

Kid sighed. He broke the stare and looked at the floor. When he spoke again, it was with a gentle tone - a quiet warning.

"Heyes, Dawson's not a man to mess with. He's the richest, most powerful man in this part of the territory. He's got an army of well paid gunmen at his beck and call and every lawman around paid up and in his pocket, all ready and willing to do his bidding. You cannot win this war. What you're doing... All you're doing is making the man mad. If you're trying to provoke him, you're succeeding..." He shook his head.

"And I just don't know if you're ready for what's gonna happen if you keep on this way. The man's ruthless. He wants this land and he will stop at nothing to get it. Heyes," he laid a hand on his former partner's shoulder. "I'm telling you as a friend; a friendly gesture on behalf of them farmers, cos I sure as hell don't want anyone else to get hurt or die, but that's what's gonna happen unless you stop this now.

"You were the one taught me to play poker. You taught me a man oughta know when to throw in a losing hand. Well, now's the time, Heyes. Now's the time."  
And with that, he mounted up, hurled Heyes' gun across to the other side of the barn and rode out across the dark fields back to Dawson's Ranch.

~ ooO0Ooo ~

Ear jangling notes crashed from the wreck of what had once been a piano, the sound ricocheting off Kid's throbbing ear drums. He took up the whiskey bottle and poured another drink, knocking it back in one to dull the pain. He glared around the spit and sawdust saloon; an island of morose and brooding ferocity amidst the drunken revels going on all around him. Joe and the boys were drinking hard, pawing at the girls, buying drinks for everyone. Kid reached for the bottle again, nearly empty now. He swayed a little, had to grab at the bar to steady himself, the effort of pouring out another glass almost toppling him.

Suddenly another hand was on his, holding him fast. He glared up angrily, to see Joe Falmouth's greasy, whiskered face, dark eyes staring him down.

Kid stared back. "What do you think you're doin Joe?" he almost whispered.

He tried again to lift the bottle. Again Joe held him back. Curry's eyes blazed.

"Is this the reason you let the farmers hired boy git away son?" Joe grinned. "Cos I wouldn't like to have to report back to Mr Dawson that you wuz too drunk to do yer job. He's already real mad at you."

Kid tried again to pour a drink, still Joe he'd his wrist fast.

"You better not screw up again," Joe leered. "Dawson don't give many men a second chance."

Kids eyes had hardened to the point where any man of intelligence would have realised he was soon going to have to back up his threat with a gun. But Joe wasn't that smart, and seemed to be enjoying baiting Curry. The bar had fallen quiet, sensing the scene was sure to end in a shooting match, when MacPherson tore in through the swing doors, yelling;

"It's him!"

"Who?" Flynn bawled back, not lifting his leering eyes from the girl on his lap.

"That fella the farm boys hired!"

Flynn stood, letting the girl drop to the floor with a surprised yelp.

Joe let go of Kid's arm; gave all his attention to the man at the door.

Kid froze - suddenly sober.

"How'd you know it's him?" Joe asked.

"The store man's kid; pay him a dime every time he tips me off that one of them sodbusters's come into town. He jest told me he seen the one that skinned old Dawson for all that merchandise... just sneaked in the telegraph office."

~ ooO0Ooo ~

Heyes stepped out of the Telegraph Office into the dark street to be confronted by a line of four mean looking gunmen. Falmouth, Flynn, MacPherson and Curry - Dawson's gunnys. His heart seemed to stop for a full minute, then commenced to beating so fast and so hard he thought a full marching band had come to town and taken up residence inside his vest.

He smiled his brightest smile.

"Evening fellas! If you've come to send a telegraph, 'fraid the office just closed for the night, though Cletus's wife bakes a mean cherry pie, ifn'..."

"Shut the hell up!" Falmouth snapped.

Heyes' smile slipped a notch - barely perceptible in the evening gloom. But he did shut up. He tried to keep his eyes on the unpredictable Falmouth, but his gaze kept drifting to Kid Curry, his ungloved right hand clenching and unclenching over his gun, watching the scene unfold with barely contained agitation.

"This a showdown then, fellas?" Heyes said, trying hard as he could to keep the apprehension out of his voice. "One against four, boys. That ain't hardly sporting now is it?"

The three men laughed out loud. Curry didn't smile; kept his gaze pinned on Heyes.

"No, no, he's right," Joe said, stemming the laughter. "We's honourable men. He kin take us one at a time. If he gets past one, he can go fur th' next orn us. That's fair. Curry, I think you should go first..."

Flynn and MacPherson hooted with delight. Kid Curry, fastest gun anyone'd seen in this territory - hell, in any state or territory west of the Mississippi!

Falmouth gestured for Kid to step into the street. He and his two side-kicks stepped aside, joining the thronging crowds rushing out of the saloon, eager to see the infamous Curry in action, taking on the farmer's hired gun.

Curry and Heyes were left facing each other across the dark and dusty street. Heyes bit his lip, his dark brows drawn together. Kid could see his chest rising and falling - could almost smell the anxiety pouring off of him.

_What? Still don't trust me Heyes? _

No, that wasn't fair. Heyes knew Kid was going to have to shoot him - else Falmouth would do it for him. And it had to look right. If anyone suspected, they'd both be in big trouble.

And Kid was scared; felt his hands commence to shake. How good was he, really? Dear God! What if, in trying too hard not to hurt Heyes, he went and missed, gave Falmouth the chance he was dying for?

_What if I aim bad and cripple him? What if I kill him?_

Heyes glanced over at Falmouth and his boys, then back at Kid; his eyes full of questions, but steady, watchful. And Kid knew... _He does trust me. He's waitin' for me. Waiting to see what I'm gonna do._

Heyes eyes were asking him; _" Kid, we got ourselves a situation. You're the one in control here. How you gonna get us out off this?"_

The jeering crowd broke in on Kid consciousness; all Dawson's - bought and paid for. Or too afraid to show otherwise.

_Well, better not keep 'em waiting,_ Kid thought. _Can't let the good townsfolks down..._

He licked the sweat from his lips, looked Heyes in the eye - and it was as if those three years they'd been apart had never been. Just like the old times; a whole conversation passed between them in a look.

_"Heyes, I gotta shoot. If I don't they will. Trust me."_

_"Trust you, huh? OK..."_

The faintest whisper of a smile played on Heyes face, Kid returned the slightest nod. And the shaking stopped. Kid knew what he was capable of. Heyes trusted him, and he was ready.

"Well, Jack. I can't wait here all day," Kid called to him. "Are you gonna draw or are you gonna let my friends here have the pleasure of taking you down?"

"Well Mister... what's your name, son?"

"Curry. Jed Curry."

"Well, Jed. I hate to deny a man his fun and all..."

Heyes went for his gun.

A single shot rang out. A scream from one of the saloon girls. Heyes gripped his arm, gasping, eyes shut tight in agony. Blood was streaming down his sleeve, dripping with heavy drops into the dust. Heyes fell to his knees, then crumpled to the ground like a rag doll,.

_Good! That's it ,stay down, Heyes. Bleed. Bleed a lot!_

With an arrogant sway and swagger, Kid sauntered, slow as he dared, over to the downed man. Ignoring the cheering, he squatted down beside Heyes, looking him over.

Heyes had dragged his bloodied hand over his chest and face, smearing the blood - there was blood all over him. You'da sworn the man had at least three mortal wounds on his body.

"You OK?" Kid murmured.

"Hurts like hell!" Heyes whispered.

'Prefer I shot you for real? It looks good," Kid smiled.

"Your compadres are on their way over," Heyes said, writhing feebly with a tortured moan.

Kid stood to face Falmouth, hoping to divert his attention away from the man on the floor. He grinned triumphantly at Joe, who slapped him hard on the back with a whoop. Kid turned to the crowd and yelled;"Someone wanna see to this man 'fore he bleeds to death?" To Kid's quiet dismay, no one dared come forward.

"He won't be getting up again," he grinned with a toss of his head to the 'dying' man; his wrenching cries of pain and distress starting to weaken. Kid tried to lead Joe away, back to the saloon. But the man stood his ground, shook his head.

"We gotta take him with us," Joe said, face alive with joy. "Mr Dawson said he wanted this fella dead. Hell!" he whooped, throwing his hat down in exultation. "He's gonna wanna see the body!"

Curry's grin froze, fixed and glassy on his face. He laughed to hide the panic building in him. "Aw c'mon Joe! That'll mean we gotta git ourselves a wagon! Cold, hard ride home in a wagon."

"Naw, we kin strap him over a saddle."

"All the way out to Beth'lem? That's gonna be awful hard on someone's horse Joe, we ain't got a spare animal..."

"We kin git one."

Kid was really scared now. Heyes wound was hardly life threatening, but riding him out to the ranch that way would hurt him bad. And what would happen when they got him there? How long before someone realised Heyes' wound was little more than a deep scratch?

"Joe," Kid gripped the man's arm hard. Joe looked at him hard - he wasn't accustomed to being grabbed at. Kid let go, he smiled. He didn't want to upset the crazy sonofabitch. Not now.

"Hey, c'mon, Joe. The guys dyin. Leave him be..."

~ ooO0Ooo ~

Kid watched with a lump in his throat as Falmouth dumped Heyes down hard in the straw of the barn. It had been a painful ride for his former partner. Joe'd insisted they take Heyes back to the ranch; trussed him up and strapped him across Kid's saddle like a bag of chicken feed. Ride took an hour and Heyes never made a sound all the way, but Kid could smell the fear coming off of him. And all the time, Kid was looking for an out, a place where he could take off - make a break for it.

No chance - the road was hemmed in by rocks and steep cliffs one side, the river the other. The road was stony too; unstable and tricky for the horse to ride - especially by night. He had Falmouth and MacPherson ahead of him, Flynn behind.

Kid was dizzy with dread as they rode into the ranch. What was gonna happen now? How soon before they realised Heyes wasn't hurt that bad? What would they do to rectify that situation?

Heyes was bleeding again after the exertion of the ride. He was barely conscious. He looked awful sick and pale in the dim light from the lanterns there in the barn. Falmouth, Flynn and MacPherson stood over him menacingly. Kid watched them, his mind in a whirl, wondering what on earth he was gonna do to keep 'em from killing him.

"He ain't dyin'!" Flynn said, turning to look at Curry. "Goddamn big shot gunfighter's hardly scratched him! I coulda done better myself!"

"He's bleeding hard," Curry drawled, giving Flynn a hard blue stare. "He won't last another hour. C'mon fellas, I got some whiskey and..."

"Uh uh!" Falmouth shook his head at Kid bearing his dirty teeth in a leer.

"What's your problem Curry?" he grinned. "Ain't no rush. I like to take my time. I haven't had hardly enough fun out of this un yet."

He put his fingers in his belt and strutted over to Heyes, nudging him with his muddy boot.

"How you doin' farmer?"

Heyes opened his eyes, still only vaguely aware of where he was and what was happening.

"C'mon! Hey! I'm talking to you!" Falmouth yelled, landing a boot in Heyes ribs. Disoriented, muddle-headed as he was, the shock of the blow helped Heyes mind snap into full consciousness.

"C'mon y'ain't dead yet boy. Wake up. Lets get a proper look at yer."

Falmouth bent down and grabbed a handful of Heyes' hair. using it to pull him over on to his back.

Heyes found himself looking up into Joe's stupid-evil face. Man was enjoying himself; no doubt about that. Blind red rage flashed through Heyes' brain at the thought that this punk, this sadist, this idiot had him helpless and on the ground. He locked eyes with his tormentor, challenging him to do his worst.

Joe didn't like the way Heyes looked at him. He kicked him so hard in the chest Heyes thought his heart would explode. He flared his nostrils against the cry that threatened to escape and kept his dark eyes locked on the gunman.

Enraged by Heyes lack of reaction, the man reached down and grabbed the wrist of his injured left arm, hoisting him up. Heyes screamed out loud - couldn't help himself as his own weight tore down on the wound. Holding him tight by his throat and his damaged limb, Joe swung Heyes hard, dashing him up against the barn wall. Heyes slid to the ground and curled into a ball.

Joe stood over his victim, watching as Heyes lay twitching on the ground, gasping spasmodically in pain - delighting Falmouth who put his boot over the wound and pressed down, tearing another wrenching cry from him. Heyes felt the sticky wetness of new blood flowing down his sleeve. Black spots danced across his vision. He tried to face down the blackness rushing in on his exhausted mind, but another well-placed boot to his ribs tipped him over the edge and he blanked out.

When Heyes opened his eyes, he found himself lying on his back, looking up at four blurred figures penning him in. As his mind cleared, pain and nausea set in with full force. He was sure the slightest movement would have him gagging. His head pounded, his arm felt like it was on fire, his whole body ached, he was trembling from pain and about all done in. Just breathing was taking most of the strength left in him.

He saw Kid, standing apart from the rest, fidgeting, pacing, panicking. Their eyes met. Kid looked wild, he was right on the edge. He laid his hand on his gun.

Heyes shook his head - the gesture imperceptible to anyone but his friend.

_Kid, don't do anything rash. Don't get us both killed. You can get me out of this. You and me both. You just gotta calm down and think... _

His world exploded in fresh agony as Falmouth took a flying kick at his belly, followed by another to his injured arm. A tortured whimper escaped Heyes dry lips and he lay back, panting in the straw, too hurt and weary to resist - or even move. He closed his eyes, allowed the darkness to take him and slid gratefully back into oblivion...

...He could hear voices; a discussion going on. He lay quiet and listened - resisting the urge to give in and drop back into unconsciousness. He heard Falmouth...

"What they do, Flynn? These Apaches?"

"They hog tie their man, with ropes around his ribs and belly, real tight, so's he can't hardly breathe at all, then loop them ropes up into a noose around his neck. Man's in so much pain from the hard tyin', he's gotta shift hisself to try to find some relief. Every time he does, that there noose tightens a little more. But he's gotta keep movin', cause otherwise he's about half dead from the cramps and the pain. So he slowly strangles himself to death. Kin take a long time to die. 'Bout the slowest way to kill a man I know of."

Heyes felt Falmouth's hot, foul breath on his face.

"You hear that punk? I'm talkin' to you!" He nudged Heyes hard in his bruised ribs. "C'mon. Open your eyes, farmer. I want you to see what's coming to you. I want to see the fear in your eyes."

Heyes opened his eyes and gave the man his hardest, coldest gaze. Falmouth grinned.

"Well you kin take that look off of your face, boy. Ain't gonna do you no good. What you need to learn is a little respect. Now, I want you to beg for me. I wanna hear you ask me, real politely, not to kill you."

Heyes kept up the stare.

"No? C'mon, say please! Please, Mr Falmouth, please don't kill me!" Falmouth laughed - a frantic, hysterical, crazed little laugh that made Heyes shiver.

"You say please for me, and I won't let Flynn here hog tie yer. I'll let Curry finish it, nice and quick. Bullet right between the eyes. Say please for me boy, and we'll end this here and now. Else I'm jest gonna have to go ahead and let these boys have their way with ya, and I kin tell you now, son, it ain't gonna be kind and it ain't gonna be pretty."

Heyes just held his gaze.

Joe was first to break away. Helpless though the man was, that look of Heyes' went through to his bones. Made him lose his temper.

"Don't you stare at me like that!"

He took out his gun and dashed it hard across his eyes. Heyes gave a choked cry and fell back into the straw.

Joe got to his feet. Jaw clenched, grinding his teeth, he turned to Kid.

"Curry, go git some rope."

Heyes and Curry locked eyes again. That look almost sent Kid reeling - such a depth of pain and exhaustion there. But there was trust, too. Heyes was relying on him, he _needed_ him to get him out of this horrible mess. For a moment, Kid felt his mind skidding into panic...

_God, this is all my fault! What am I gonna do?_

He looked back down at Heyes, lying there, crippled and bleeding. Flynn and MacPherson were standing over him, jeering, kicking at him.

Curry suddenly realised Falmouth was looking at _him_... saying something...

_Get a rope? What rope? What's he mean?_

"You listening to me, boy? What's the matter with you?"

Kid's mouth was dust-dry, his feet wouldn't move, he could hardly get his body to function at all.

Then that look in Heyes eyes flashed through his mind. Heyes needed him.

His eyes lighted on the lantern hanging by the door.

"I'll need a light," he said, nodding to Joe. He took a last glance back at Heyes, and hurried out to the stables.

Heyes shut his eyes. He hadn't quite given in, but he couldn't last much longer. The periods of lucidity were growing shorter. Every time he lost consciousness he became defenceless and there was every chance they'd hurt him so bad he'd never get up again. So he fought against the blackness that kept pressing on him, but it was getting harder and harder with every kick and blow.

Falmouth was talking to him again, squatting down beside him, his foul, sweaty face pressed so near. The stink of his body and foul whiskey breath almost made Heyes retch.

In his fevered state, Heyes could only follow a little of what Falmouth was saying, but from the odd words that broke through the dark haze clouding his mind, he'd guess it was a pretty lurid description of how he was going to die. Well, he figured it couldn't take too long. Not the way he was feeling.

The other two were watching, giggling like Hyenas.

_Guess half the pleasure's in the anticipation_, Heyes thought. He wondered why they spent so much time tellin him about it and didn't just get on and get it over with.

MacPherson'd found a bottle of whiskey from somewhere - was passing it round. They were all laughing.

God! His arm hurt bad. His ribs hurt worse. He couldn't move... Heyes blanked it all out and concentrated on breathing. It was all he could do to take one breath, then another, and all the time waiting for the next rush of agony. It seemed to come on him in sickening, nauseating waves that threatened to take him out of this world altogether. Then, just when he thought he was going to die for sure, the pain would fade and he'd come back to his senses a while - only to lose his mind again when the hurt returned. It was like having a foot in two realities; one real, one a dream; both equally pain filled and nightmarish. Except he hardly had sense to know where one began and the other ended any more.

And where was Kid? He never saw him leave. He wasn't there by the door anymore but he wouldn't have left him. Left him alone with these maniacs...? No. He'd have a plan.

Heyes hoped it was a good one.

"Where's Curry got to?" He heard MacPherson drawl. "Goddam! How long's it take to fetch a coil of rope?" He lashed out at Heyes wounded arm.

Heyes didn't even feel it. Floating in his dream world, he felt almost peaceful. Till the dream grew strange - the barn suddenly full of disturbing, flickering lights, the gut-wrenching sounds of screaming horses and gunfire and the acrid smell of burning... Had he died and gone to hell? But Falmouth and his guys were yelling too...

Then Kid burst through the door.

"Goddamn it!" he screamed at them. "What are y'all doin? The farmers are here! They've set the stables on fire! C'mon!"

"The farmers? What you talkin about?" Falmouth glared at him.

A burst of gunfire shattered the night and the shrielks of panicked, whinnying horses rent the air. Sparks and burning red smuts were falling down into the yard and the choking tang of smoke was everywhere..

"Lets git outta here!" MacPherson yelled. "The whole place could go up!"

"There's not enough of us to put it out!" Flynn screeched.

"There ain't many and that's a fact," Kid yelled, trying to urge the three men out of the barn. "Only Smith, Jenkins, Holt and Kelly. Saturday night," he shrugged. "The boys who ain't out rounding up the cattle are down town. C'mon fellas!" Kid said grabbing Flynn's arm, glancing up at the roof. "We're all gonna roast alive if that fire gets in here! We gotta get a water chain movin quick..."

"You go!" Falmouth snapped. "There's enough of you to get something organised. Are the horses out?"

Kid nodded, mind spinning. _What game was Falmouth playing here?_

"OK, forget the stables. Ain't nothing we kin do if they're well afire. Let em burn. Concentrate on keeping the surrounding buildings good and wet so's the fire don't spread. Well jump to it!" he yelled at MacPherson and Flynn standing, open mouthed and panicky. They both ran from the barn.

"You too Curry!" Falmouth snapped at Kid.

"What about you, Joe?"

Joe shook his head, nudging Heyes with his boot. "I ain't finished here, yet."

He squatted back down next to Heyes and took out a knife. "Go on, Curry," he said. "Git!"

He turned to look up at Kid and the blow intended for the back of his head landed instead across his forehead. He slumped to the ground.

Kid got down next to Heyes, ran his fingers nervously over his friend's forehead, through his hair and across his eyes.

"Heyes! C'mon Heyes, wake up. Please!"

Heyes was waxy and cold. He didn't seem to be breathing. Kid's heart stood still in his chest. He felt at Heyes throat, searching for a pulse and found one... weak, flickering and fast. Way too fast. Kid forced down the panic rising in him and lifted Heyes up over his shoulder. He dashed out into the maelstrom of the ranch yard.

Two buildings - the stables and a store room - were burning fiercely; fire lighting the night sky a fearsome devil's red. The shatter of breaking beams and falling masonry tore through the hysterical shouts of men and screaming panic-blind horses stampeding dangerously around the yard and corral, breaking down fences and scattering the cowboys as they fought to put out the fire.

Thick smoke choked Kid as he staggered along with Heyes across his back, keeping to the shadows, trying not to fall.

A volley of shots broke out and everyone dashed for cover. Kid grinned. He thought all of them cartridges he'd thrown in with the lantern when he set the stables burning were already spent. Talking advantage of the distraction to get Heyes down, he leaned him up against the horse he'd got saddled and waiting in the scrub by the big house. Kid patted his face, none too gently.

"C'mon Heyes. Wake up. Please! It's gonna be awful hard to ride out fast if you don't."

The slightest sigh escaped Heyes swollen lips. His eyelashes flickered on his sweat stained, sooty face.

"Come on Heyes! Come on! Wake up! Talk to me!"

Heyes gasped, cried out in sudden realisation of his pain and tried to double over - Kid caught him and stopped him. "I'm sorry buddy. I'm really, really sorry, but we ain't got time for this. We got about five minutes to get out of here 'fore Joe wakes up and raises the alarm. Come on now, look at me! Talk to me. Heyes!"

"Kid?" - The weakest, quietest, most heart-rending little whisper Kid ever heard. He grinned in sweet relief.

"Come on, you gotta get up on the horse. I'll lift yer. We gotta get moving buddy."

Heyes nodded. He reached up to grab the saddle horn, let out a strangled cry and dropped unconscious. Kid caught him, almost weeping with frustration and panic. He gripped Heyes by his coat - no time left for worrying if he was hurting him or not - and manhandled him up over the saddle. Leaping up behind him, he manipulated Heyes' legs over the horses' back, grabbed a tight hold of his waist and with his free right arm, pulled the horse around and rode, fast as he could, down the road and out of the Bethle'm ranch.

About two miles out, Heyes roused, groaning. Kid shook him, hoping to wake him. His left arm was aching and cramped from supporting his friend's dead weight so long.

"Heyes, I know you're bad off, but if you could just rouse yerself and take your own weight a while, it'd be a real help."

Heyes hadn't the strength to support himself with his legs, but he shifted back, leaning up against Kid's chest, taking the strain off his partner's arm. Kid sighed loud in relief, stopping a moment to catch his breath, stretch out and check back for pursuers.

"Are they following?" Heyes asked.

"They gotta be. Look, I'm making for sodbuster country. Reckon them farmers of yours kin hold em off?"

Heyes nodded. "But don't take the road. Dawson's boys are gonna be faster than us. They'll run us down. Cut up through the trees there."

"You sure?"

Heyes nodded.

Kid spurred the horse up the steep slope to their left and into the thick copse covering the hillside.

"OK, now," Heyes said softly. "When you reach the dry stream, turn left..."

"But that'll take us right back the way we come!"

Heyes shook his head firmly. "Trust me."

Kid nodded, and followed the route Heyes indicated. There was no visible trail, but Kid pushed on through the trees and scrub - wherever Heyes told him to go, walking the horse through a narrow gap in the rocks that led them down to the river.

"Hey, I know where we are now!" Kid grinned. "This is right by the Johnson place! Aw Heyes! How'd you do that in the dark?"

"I know all these trails like I know the dents in my pocket watch," Heyes sighed, his voice tired and weaker than before. "Ride slow now, cos the suns' coming up and we gotta get past the guard.

A shot kicked up the dirt in front of them, making the horse rear and whinny - it was all Kid could do to hold tight to Heyes and keep them both mounted.

"You hold it! Hold it right there!" a lone voice called.

Kid got the horse under control, reigning her in, holding her fast.

"Heyes, you know this fella?" Kid asked, nudging his partner. "Heyes? Heyes!"

No sound - Heyes sank down against him.

_Great!_ Kid thought. _You sure do pick your moment to pass out on me Heyes!_

Gripping his slumped partner tight by the waist, Kid looked over his shoulder to see two men and a boy jumping down from the overhanging bluff, each with a rifle on his shoulder. He saw the boy start, wide-eyed, shaking one of the men by the sleeve. The man leaned down so's the boy could talk into his ear.

_Oh that's just perfect!_ Kid thought, watching the three, _That's the Johnson kid. He knows me by sight. Gotta play this one close or things're gonna get sticky..._

Kid held up his one free hand in a placatory gesture.

"OK now," he said. "I know the way this looks but, I got your man Jack here. He's hurt, hurt bad..."

"Did you hurt him?" The kid yelled.

"No, I did not..."

"Well how'd we know that?" One of the men yelled angrily. "You're one of Dawson's hired guns..."

"He's moren' that!" The kid said. "He's that fast draw everyone in town's talking about! Dawson brung him all the way from New Mexico cause he's such a big shot gunfighter an all! He's one of them what made my dad dance in the street . Made everyone laugh at him..."

The men cocked their shotguns and trained them on Kid.

"Now look!" Kid yelled quickly, trying to diffuse the tense situation. "If I meant him any harm, why would I have risked my life bringing him here, huh? I mean, I just left Dawson's ranch in flames on account of my friend here..."

"Your friend? What are you babbling about, boy...!" Sam Wilson said, angrily, marching towards Kid, his gun trained at his head. "I hear tell it wuz you shot Jack down in the street last night."

"I did it to save his life! Look..." No time for tricky explanations. Kid held up a palm again, desperate now. "I'm gonna throw down my gun, OK?" He held his breath, keeping a close eye on the man with the gun.

Wilson nodded. "Jest don't forget I can git both barrels off any time," he snarled.

"He'll take the top of your head off 'fore you touch leather," Davey Featherstone called, his hand resting protectively on little Jimmy's shoulder.

Kid nodded. Moving slow and steady as he could, he took out his colt by the fingertips. Holding it up so's they could all see, he tossed it down with a thud. He held up his hand again.

"Fellas," he said. "I've come here because my _friend_ here's hurt and he needs your help. I ain't got time to get into the details, but he's out cold and he can't explain, so you're gonna havta listen to me. Now, are you gonna let me put him to bed and start some doctorin, or are you gonna keep me here jawin till he dies?"

Kid watched anxiously as the men put their heads together for a whispered conversation. The boy watched Kid, staring hard; a puzzled, angry frown creasing his forehead. Kid tried to smile at the boy, but it was such a tense and half-hearted effort it hardly counted as a smile at all.

Heyes shifted in Kid's stiffening, cramping embrace. He moaned.

Kid looked down at the boy, a pleading entreaty on his face.

"Son, he's hurt bad," he said. "He's my friend. Best friend I ever had. Reckon he's your friend too, huh? Help me out here. Please?"

The boy turned to Wilson and Featherstone. "We gotta help Jack," he said. "Whatever else this fella is, whatever he's done, it ain't helping Jack keeping him out here this way. We gotta get him back to the farm. We can decide what to do with _him_ after Jack's taken care of."

The men looked at each other. Sam nodded. "Boy's right."

Kid bobbed his head, gave a tight smile of gratitude to the boy.

"C'mon," Wilson snapped. "I'll ride with yer so no tricks. Davey here'll stay behind to watch, see none of your red bandanna buddies are followin'". He gestured with his rifle.

"You'll need moren' one man," Kid said. "Gotta be at least three, maybe more, comin' on after us. Probably won't take this road but..."

"You leave all that to us, Mister. We kin take care of ourselves, don't you worry yerself none. Me and the boy'll be at yer back. Gonna have our guns on you all the way, so don't get any ideas. And don't you underestimate young Jimmy, neither. He's as good a shot as I am; 'fact, he's probably better. And he's got a whole lot more reason to shoot you down than me, so you behave yourself, OK?"  
Kid nodded and spurred his horse on, grateful finally, to be riding towards help for Heyes. Though what kind of trouble he was heading into was anyone's guess.

~ ooO0Ooo ~

By the time they reached the Johnson farm, Kid was tired and aching from holding on to Heyes so long. His partner'd roused enough to ask a couple of confused questions along the way. He didn't seem to know where he was or what was going on. Kid suspected a fever on it's way, scaring him twice over; fearful for Heyes and himself. He needed Heyes to tell the farmers he meant no harm. Without Heyes corroboration, these guys might just decide to gun him down for his part in their troubles. Kid wouldn't blame em if they did.

Right now, his main concern was getting Heyes cleaned up and in bed, get a proper look at that wound and see how much damage Falmouth and the boys had done. Hopefully even get a doctor out to him - if there were any left with the guts to defy Dawson and deal with the sodbusters.

Sam heralded their return with a barrage of yelling;

"John! Git out here! Bring yer rifle! I got one of Dawson's gunnies and he's got Jack! Looks like he's hurt bad too!"

Kid's mouth was so dry... he'd faced down some bad situations in his young life, but none so complicated, so gosh darn hard to explain as this. He surely wished Heyes would wake and start wagging that silver tongue.

The door of the cabin flung open and Johnson staggered out, pulling up his suspenders with one hand, a Henry rifle in the other. A stern-looking woman hurried along behind him, holding tight to a shotgun.

"What's going on Mister?" she snapped at Kid, levelling the gun at his chest. "What you done with Jack?"

"Will someone please come help me get him down?" Kid roared, fearful for Heyes; impatient with the need to keep explaining himself. He kept one eye on the guns pointed at him, but fixed his attention on the boy, who seemed the most alert and understanding individual there.

Jimmy tried to help, but Johnson was quick to rush over and take Heyes' weight from him as Kid lifted his limp friend down - And all the time, attempting to explain...

"Like I keep sayin, it weren't me that hurt him. I haven't the time to give you the full story now. This here's my friend, my cousin, and he's gonna die unless we get him inside and get him some help."  
Sarah was standing next to him, both barrels pointing up, right at his head. _Boy,_ Kid thought. _That woman had a mean hard look about her._

"Your friend? Your _cousin_? What game is this, Mister? We all know who y'are! We all know it was you shot Jack..."

"Ma'am if I hadn'ta shot him, Joe Falmouth woulda and he'da made a better job of it, believe me. I only meant to graze him and that's all I done. The rest of what you see is Falmouth's work..."

"Well why should we believe you?"

Kid watched Johnson and Featherstone carry his partner into the house. He had to get past this angry woman and her gun. He leaned down on the saddle horn sighed deep in desperation, bit down hard on his anger. When he looked back at her, he'd composed himself; spoke quiet and gentle...

"Ma'am. If I meant him any harm, I really wouldn't have brung him here to you, now would I?"

A shadow of doubt passed over the woman's face. She gripped the rifle tight, nostrils flaring, thinking it over.

Kid swallowed. He let his gaze wander over to the house. Desperately needing to get in there with Heyes.

"Ma'am. Please..." He lifted his tired arms, holding his coat away from his body. "I ain't armed. I swear I'm no danger to you or your kin. That man there _is_ my friend and I love him more than anyone or anything in this whole sorry world. I dearly would appreciate if you'd put down the gun and let me go see to him. Please."

The last was more a sob than a word. Kid suddenly felt drained and exhausted. He felt himself lurch, felt a tight hand on his leg, grabbing him back from his fall into darkness.

The woman was gripping him tight; confusion - and concern - in her eyes. She'd lowered the gun. Kid looked her in the eye and slowly dragged his weary body off the horse. On the ground at last, he leaned into the animal and closed his eyes for just a moment, gathering strength, before turning the full force of his most innocent, pleading, puppy dog look on the woman.

Without a word, Sarah gestured with the gun for him to walk on to the house. He did, but kept his hands in the air all the way. The woman was protective of her own - and that clearly included Heyes. She held that gun like she meant business and Kid wasn't taking any chances with her.

He burst in through the farmhouse door. Impatiently shoving Johnson's gun aside, he made right for Heyes, laying, pale and wan on Sarah's snow white sheets. He sat carefully down on the bed beside him and laid his hand on his friend's forehead. He was burning; fever taking hold. Afraid and panicking some, he began unbuttoning Heyes shirt.

Johnson grabbed his arm. "You leave a hold of him, gunman," he snapped.

Kid glared back at him with a look of black rage. "Wouldn't you be better off helping your men guard them trails, Mr. Johnson? Falmouth thinks you folks burned down Dawson's ranch. He's out for blood. You're gonna need all the hands you can get to hold him back, so why don't you go do that and stop wasting time with me!"

"Why you..." Johnson gripped his rifle so hard it almost melted in his hands. "This is my farm. My land. My home. And _you_ come in here telling me what _I_ oughta do..."

He raised the rifle butt to strike at Kid.

Sarah came up behind him holding a pitcher of boiling water from the kitchen.

"John!" she snapped. "Leave the man be! Can't you see he don't mean Jack no harm?"

_Heyes could hear voices, voices raised in anger... snatches of phrases that made no sense to him. He knew they were his friends, and they were fighting. Mustn't fight, he thought. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. He needed to get to the voices, but he was lost in a fog, lost in his own mind, drowning in a deep and shrouded pool. He fought and struggled, tried to break through, tried to swim to the surface. His chest hurt, he couldn't breathe. Someone... pressing down on his arm, hurting him, hurting him bad. He moaned..._

Kid spun round. Heyes was muttering deliriously, his hands fluttering, fingers twitching. Kid laid his hand back on Heyes forehead, stroked cool fingers over his sweating face, murmured softly, tried to calm him.

Johnson lowered his gun and swallowed his wrath. His voice was calm when he spoke again, but laced with menace.

"Don't think this is the end of it. I want words with you, boy..."

"And you'll get em," Kid said. "But not now. Not till I know he's OK."

Sarah watched Kid lay his hand back on the wounded man's head and stroke the damp, dark hair soothingly. His blue eyes were full of hurt and concern. She was bewildered, baffled. The man's anxiety for his friend - she had to believe he really was his friend, how could he be otherwise? - was plain, but perplexing.

"You know anything about doctorin'?" she asked him.

Kid shrugged. "Some. A little..."

"Well then reckon I know moren' you. Move out of the way young fella."

Kid did as he was told, standing uncomfortably next to John and Sam, all three avoiding each other's eyes as Sarah soaked Heyes blood drenched shirt sleeve so she could lift it easily from his injured arm.

She turned on the three men and the boy, watching behind her.

"Ain't you men got nothing better to do? This fella says Falmouth's gunnies is on the way. Reckon he should know if anyone does. You go on out and warn them that's on guard, let em know what to expect. Think you should take out extra guns and ammunition and some of that there dynamite too. Well go on, git!" She yelled. Reluctantly, and with a venomous side glance at Kid, the two men did as they were bid.

"Jimmy!" she snapped. "Go help your pa!"

"Don't yell at the boy," Kid said softly, running his hand over Jimmy's hair. "He's worried too. He only wants to help..."

"Don't you tell me how to deal with my own kin!" Sarah snapped back. "You of all people. You're the cause of all this. You and your kind..."

"Ma'am, please," Kid sighed weakly. "Will you listen to me..."

"My name's Sarah," she interrupted him. "Sarah Simmons. What's _your_ name, son? I can't keep callin yer 'fella' now can I?"

"Jed. Jed Curry."

"Jimmy," Sarah said, a little softer than before. "Are you jest gonna stand there gawpin, or you gonna do somethin' useful?"

The boy looked up at Kid.

"Go help your pa, Jimmy," Kid said.

The boy nodded and ran out after the men.

"Well then, Jed. How about you? What you gonna do?"

"I ain't goin nowhere," he said.

"Is that a fact?"

"Yes it is."

"Then you'd best make yourself useful. In the kitchen, you'll find some old sheets torn up fer bandages in a basket by the stove. You stick em in that pan of water I've got a boilin there. When they've boiled ten minutes, you fetch em in here. Think you kin manage that?"

"Yes Ma'am... Sarah."

"OK then git to it."

"How is he? Kid asked. "How's he seem to you...?"

She met his eyes. "None too good son. But we'll do the best we can for him. 'Tween us all there's enough love and prayers to keep him and ten more alive. But we gotta give God a helpin hand and we kin start with tending these wounds. Some of these ribs is broken, they'll have to be bound. Gonna need plenty of bandages so step to it Jed."

~ ooO0Ooo ~

_They were there again; the men with the ugly faces. Oily, sweat stained whiskers, leaning into him, taunting him_, _laughing faces shining with the red lights of the fire that burned inside and out..._

"Don't. Please, no. No more..."

_The pain was back, blinding, world-shattering pain that rushed on him like a tornado, sweeping him up, propelling him through another bout of madness... _

"I don't... I can't... I don't..."

"Shhh, hush now, easy, it's OK..."

_The voice was back. The gentle voice. Someone stroking his face with cool hands. The voice of his friend. It drove the men away, helped him stand the pain. He would be safe again, for a while. His friend would take care of him..._

"How's he doin'?" Sarah asked, bringing in a bowl filled with iridescent frozen shards from the ice house.

"Still fevered. I think he's in pain too. Hard to say."

"Queer if he weren't, th' beatin he took. He ain't that long since recovered from a gunshot neither. He must be a whole lot tougher'n he looks, I reckon. C'mon son, move over and let me git a look at him."

Kid moved aside so Sarah could get next to Heyes. She took the soft, white cloth that had been soaking in the icy water and laid it gently across Heyes' forehead. He calmed instantly; the strain around his eyes easing. His tense limbs relaxed some, his hands stopped their fretful anxious wavering.

"Them bruises is really coming up strong," she said, drawing back the covers to reveal the lurid, blue-black stains on Heyes' pale abdomen.

She pressed down gently on his belly, eliciting a pained and broken groan.

"Easy, easy now," she soothed, moving her rough palms softly across his body.

"No swellin'," she said. "Pulse is steady enough, considerin'. I don't think he's bleeding inside." She stood up to cool a fresh cloth in the bowl and let Kid take back the chair by the bed. He'd hardly left his place at Heyes' side since he arrived on the farm ten hours back.

"Ain't it time you took a break, Jed? You look done in. You're no use to the boy if you're sick yerself."

"I feel fine," he smiled. "I sure could manage another piece of that pie though."

Sarah grinned. "You sure ain't a man to let worry wreck his appetite now, are you Jed?"

Kid grinned, embarrassed. "No Ma'am - Sarah. Hey...He always joshed about my being always hungry."

"How long you known him?" she asked, wringing out the cold cloth and placing it on Heyes' injured belly. He roused a little, moaning, raising his legs and kicking some sos' Kid had to rescue the covers and pull them back across his knees.

"Shhhh, s'OK. Settle down. Everything's OK..." Kid said, standing to dip the cloth from Heyes' head back in the bowl, laying it on his brow; whispering meaningless, calming noises like a mother'd make to a fretful baby.

He glanced up to see Sarah staring at him; her gooseberry eyes warm with tenderness. Kid saw the woman of twenty years ago in those eyes - before all that gentleness had been hammered out of her on life's hard anvil.

But soon as Kid looked at her, the stiffness came up again, like she was closing the shutters against a sunny day. It seemed Sarah didn't like anyone - 'specially dangerous, unpredictable strangers - looking into her soul.

"You didn't answer my question," she said curtly, settling down in the chair, fixing her eyes on his, waiting.

Kid sighed. Checking Heyes and seeing him sleeping peacefully, he sat down on the edge of the bed and met her gaze.

"Guess you need to know the whole story huh?"

"Be nice," she said. "You kin start with tellin me how a boy like you come to be working fer a man like Dawson?"

Kid grimaced. "It was all a mistake. Not a mistake; I was conned," he said. "Been wonderin how to get out of it ever since I got here and saw what was goin on..."

"Why didn't you jest up and ride out?"

"I had my reasons."

"Dawson got some kind of a hold on you?"

Kid looked at the woman, trying to read her eyes. All the natural caution born of six years on the outlaw trail rose up in him. He didn't know her, or how far he could trust her. Heyes hadn't gone so far as to give these folks his real name.

"I can't tell you why, Ma'am. I couldn't just up and leave, much as I wanted to."

She nodded. Seemed to accept that - for now. "So, what's the story with you and Jack?"

_Jack._ Kid smiled. Such a plain, down-home, farmer's name. It really didn't suit the man he knew as Hannibal Heyes at all.

"We're blood cousins. Our Mom's were sisters. We grew up together, on a farm, just like this one. Been together almost all our lives."

"So how..."

"Do we come to be on opposite sides in a range war?" he finished for her. "Well Sarah..." he ran his fingers through his dirty, matted hair, looked down at the soot streaks it'd left in his fingers. "We didn't know we was, till th'other night. I haven't seen him these three years. Not till Dawson sent me in to kill your hired man and I found I'd kidnapped young Jack the Lad here..."

"That was _you_ at Harry's place the night of the meeting?"

Kid nodded with a smile Sarah didn't return. "You came here to kill?"

Kid shook his head. "No Ma'am! I was ordered to, but I never had any intention..."

"If that man hadnta been your cousin. If it'd a been my John, or Harry or..."

"Outcome woulda been just the same. I give you my word on that, Sarah."

She locked eyes with him again. Cool blue met pale, chill green as she sounded him out. He didn't look away - though he'd told her a bald-faced lie. Of course, if it hadn't've been Heyes under that sack, he wouldn't have killed the man - but he woulda been lying in a box car now, trussed like a hog and halfway to Abilene. But Sarah didn't need to know that. He fixed his sincerest gaze on her and it seemed to work. He saw her soften some, and look at him strangely.

"How come you didn't know who it was you was up against?" she asked suspiciously. "Half the territory knows the name of Jack Lawrence by now. He's getting to be a real legend."

_"Hell! How did he answer that one?_ Fortunately, he didn't have to. Heyes impeccable timing saving the day with a low moan, thrashing his arms and legs - a hand suddenly flying out to grip Kid by the arm.

Heyes opened his eyes - and closed them again quickly. The faint light of the lantern seemed unbearably bright to him; like a lightning flash, burning his retinas, launching fresh waves of pain through his skull like an explosion...

He cried out; a desperate, keening wail.

"Oh, whoah! Whoah!" Kid called, turning quickly to him, laying his hands softly on Heyes' face and shoulders.

"Steady now, easy there..."

"Kid?" He whispered.

Kid's face split with a grin like Christmas.

"Hey...!" He said, recovered quickly and went on... "Hey there, Jack. How you doin'? Nice of you to join us."

Heyes frowned at him, confused. Kid worried over what he might say next. Then Heyes relaxed in a smile.

"Howdy," he said.

"How you feelin, buddy?"

"Not good," Heyes sighed.

"Well, no wonder, them boys really worked you over. Sarah here, and me, we're taking care of yer. You're gonna be just fine."  
Heyes turned his head to see Sarah smiling at him from the chair. He closed his eyes sharply - the movement setting off more explosions in his tortured head. He felt the fog of fever rolling down on his mind again and clutched tighter at Kid's arm like a man drowning in bog, trying to keep a grip on his sanity.

"Kid..." he whispered. His voice weakening. "Wha... What happened? Where am I?"  
"Back at the farm. It's OK, you're safe. I'm here."

Heyes nodded, then the fever mists won out and he closed his eyes.

"Sarah," Kid turned to the woman, brows knotted, suddenly anxious. "Think you can trust me enough to give me back my gun?" She snapped that cold, searching gaze back on him.

"I don't know what's going on on those trails. I know Jack's one hell of a planner and a leader - begging your pardon Ma'am. But, if by some chance they can't hold them back, well... I'm better with a gun than any man or woman around. If Falmouth makes it here... after what I did last night..." he glanced back at Heyes. "You've seen what he can do. Sarah, I can protect you..."

"I don't need your protection! I kin take care of myself, been doing it all my life!"

"Well then, at least give me the means to take care of my friend."

Sarah thought a while, then - reluctantly - went out to the kitchen and came back with Kid's colt. She held it out to him, but as he reached out, she held on tight.

"Jed, I'm real good with a gun. If this is any kind of a trick you're pullin, if you do any harm to anyone or anything on this farm, down to the chickens in their pen, I promise, I won't kill you. I'll cripple you. I'll hurt you so bad you'll wish you'd died a thousand times. Do I make myself clear?"

"Very clear, Sarah. But you don't need to worry about me. If you don't trust me to take care of you, you gotta know I wouldn't do anything to endanger him."

"And what about the rest of us? For all your fine talk and gentle ways you're still one of them. You're Dawson's, hired to kill like any other murdering dog on his payroll. We've all know what you kin do, and now you're asking us to forget all of that. Now you're on our side...?"

"Sarah, give Jed his gun."  
They both spun around. Heyes was awake, leaning up on his good elbow.

Kid sat back down on the bed and gripped his shoulder, pushing him gently back down against the pillows.

"Hey, lay down, you gotta rest..."

Heyes looked past him, to the smouldering woman in the doorway.

"Sarah, I promise you. Jed Curry'd sooner shoot himself through the heart than hurt you or anyone here. And there's no better man to have on your side, believe me. You can trust him. Give him his gun. Please."

With a curt nod Sarah tossed the gun on to the bed.

"You better be right, Jack Lawrence," she said, taking the bowl of water, the ice long melted, back to the kitchen.

Heyes watched her go; that tight, wary look on his face - only relaxing when he was sure he and Kid were alone.

Kid watched him, questioning; concern in his eyes. "Don't you trust her, Heyes?" he asked, speaking low, checking his gun before replacing it in his holster.

"You know me," Heyes sighed. I don't trust anyone. That's why I'm still alive."

"Oh is that it?" Kid smiled sardonically.

"Ain't you the same?" Heyes asked him.

"I guess. I trust you."

Heyes nodded, "I trust you too." Then his face split in the biggest, brightest smile - made Kid's heart leap to see it.

This was Heyes' real smile. The one that went right to his eyes; playful and unshrouded, free of all subterfuge and secret agendas. A smile he reserved for one man only; and that man was the one sitting - smirking - opposite him, enjoying the shared joke; that neither of them really trusted the people they were working for. And Heyes wasn't even getting paid for his part of the deal!

"Oh Heyes," Kid chuckled. "Don't ever change."

"I promise not to," Heyes said, with a look of the purest, laughing insincerity.

A look that changed in an instant; like the shadow of a cloud passing over the landscape, the practised mask snapped into place and Kid, registering the almost imperceptible change, knew Sarah must be right behind him.

"John, Jimmy and the boys is back, " she snapped, setting clean bandages and fresh ice water down on the table by the bed. "They seen them Beth'lem boys off easy, so we're safe again..."  
"For now," Kid said.

Sarah regarded him balefully; gave the gun now hanging on his hip a meaningful look, but said nothing.

"I've set dinner," she said, drawing back the bed covers to check on Heyes' injuries. "You go sit and eat with the men, Jed..."

Kid shook his head; "I'll take mine here Sarah ifn' you don't mind..."

"Well I do mind," she said, laying cold cloths on Heyes bruised belly, making him smart. "I need to bathe these wounds and change his bandages. I can't do that with you gittin in my way."  
When Kid showed no sign of moving, folding his arms and setting his face stubbornly, Sarah blew her top.

"Now git!" she screeched, flicking an icy wet cloth at him - making Heyes grin. "You been sittin here this past day and a half like a liberty pole. You're all done in boy! You go on like this, you gonna be sickern' him in no time! You go set at table like a human being."

Kid still hesitated. He glanced at Heyes who lay, eyes laughing, trying hard to suppress a smile. Heyes gave a toss of his head, mouthing. 'Go on!'

Reluctantly, keeping his eyes on Heyes, Kid turned to leave. The prospect of dinner with the farm boys didn't exactly fill him with joyous anticipation.

"Then, when you've 'et," Sarah went on, without looking at him. "You kin bed down in Jimmy's cot. Boy kin share my bed..."

"Ma'am, ain't no need for that. He's still fevered. I can watch him better here. I'd sooner sleep in the chair, same as before..."

"Did you hear what I said?" she asked, turning to him. "Do you wanna tire yerself right out? Do you wanna get sick...? You git sat down and eat while there's still some food left, cos them men and the boy - 'specially the boy - they're hungry as bears in springtime. And don't forget to say your prayers son," she called after him, meeting Heyes eyes with a grim look. "I got a strange and sorry feeling you and your friend here's got more need of the Good Lord's help than most."

~ ooO0Ooo ~

Sarah walked in to lay a pie on the table, saw Kid sitting apart from the other men, playing with his food, grim and silent. Sam and John kept their concentration on their eating; their eyes down, on their dinner. Little Jimmy sat opposite the gunman, staring, wide-eyed at him - whenever he thought the man wasn't looking.

"Jack seems a whole lot better," Sarah announced to the table. "Still hurting bad, but the fever's dropped some and he's talking clear now."  
Kid shot her a glance, threw down his napkin and stood up.

"Where'd you think you're goin?" she asked.

"I thought I'd go sit with him..."

"You sit down and have some apple pie!" she snapped back. "He ain't goin nowhere and you need to eat, you'll be skin and bone the way you been goin on."

Kid could hardly suppress a smile at the thought of himself turning to skin and bone, but he let it pass without comment... Heyes would enjoy that one," he thought, sitting back down.

"Let the man go to his _friend_ if that's what he wants," John growled.

"So long as Sarah goes too," Sam said, turning a hard stare on Kid. "I'd hate fer Jack to have a sudden relapse."

Kid turned his coldest gaze on the two men. Johnson met it; held it.

Jimmy shivered, watching the confrontation unfold with real admiration for his Pa. He knew he couldn'ta stood that stare fer moren' a second! Half scared him rigid. Made him feel like a rabbit with a rattler.

Truth was, Jimmy just couldn't figure the man at all. He was with Dawson's gunnies; was there when Joe Falmouth hurt his pa. Now he was here, and Jack was his friend - they was kin, Aunt Sarah said. It just didn't make sense. Unless... Jimmy remembered that day in the barn, when Jack got himself up as a Red Bandanna. He sure looked the part that day. Maybe Jack was a gunman too. But Jack was their friend! Laying out there now, all beat up and shot on account of that friendship...

Jimmy didn't know what to think. He slipped from his chair and went to Jack's room.

"What are you saying Mr Featherstone?" Kid asked, his voice and eyes cold as December. "You're surely not suggesting I mean Jack any harm, now are you?"

"Well you sure meant business when you shot him down in the street!"  
"I told you! If I hadn'ta shot him, Joe Falmouth woulda and he'da killed him! Is that what you wanted?"

"Well that's your job ain't it? To scare off, burn out and kill! You wuz with them men fired poor Deke's barn and fields, and don't deny it cos I seen you!"

"I don't deny it," Kid said softly.

"Well then _why_ in _heaven's name_ d'you think we should trust you now, boy?"

"Cause Jack says to," Sarah cut in. "If Jack says he kin be trusted, well then, I reckon that's what we gotta do."

Kid smiled gratefully at her, but the gaze she returned was hard and searching. Trusting him was clearly taking every ounce of belief she had and was testing her faith in Heyes some, too.

Kid sighed. "John, Sam," he said, looking at the clean linen cloth, not meeting their eyes. "I know it's hard for you to believe; 'bout as hard as it is for me to explain it to yer... I'm right sorry for my part in all of this. I can't begin to tell why I done what I did. I sure can't expect you to forgive me..." He paused a moment, trailing his fingers on the cloth, gathering his thoughts.

"You're good folks. You're defending your land and you're doing it well. You really have been a burr under Mr Dawson's saddle. He's right mad at yer. That business with the cattle..." He looked up with a half-smile. "That was one of Jack's ideas weren't it?" Kid grinned at the slow nods. "Thought so." _Yeah - that one had Heyes all over it._

"Well, that really threw mud in his well, I can tell yer. He's ornery as a fried toad right now, and, see... that's the problem, fellas. He's gonna move Heaven and Earth now to git you off of this land. He's gonna get mean, fellas..."

"And we'll be ready for him!" Sarah said.

Kid shook his head. "No Ma'am, beggin your pardon. You can't possibly be! Y'ain't got enough people, you ain't got enough guns. You're too scattered. These farms is real spread out, no way you can defend em all..."

"We been doing OK up to now!" John muttered.

"Against a few hired guns! Dawson's gonna throw everything at yer! He's gonna send fifty, a hundred men down here to shoot you down and burn you out. He's got more men, more money... Hell, he's probably even got the Governor in his pocket. There's no way you can fight back at a man like Dawson!"

"So what are you saying we do?" Sam snapped. "Jest give up..."

"Yeah," Kid nodded. "That's exactly what you should do."

"Are you crazy!" John screamed, jumping to his feet, sending his chair flying, waving his dinner knife at Kid. "After all we done to defend ourselves. After all this fight and toil..."

"Mr Johnson," Kid said, still sitting, still cool. "Dawson's gonna keep coming at yer. He ain't never gonna give in..."

"Well neither are we!" John cried.

"This is your game huh, gunman?" Sam sneered. "Come up here and work on us to sell out? Dawson thought you'd have more effect, sittin here with us all friendly-like, sharin our vittals...?"

Kid shook his head. "No!"

"Sure it is!" John yelled. "You dirty, double crossing..."

Sarah laid a hand on John's shoulder. "Steady John," she said. "Let's hear him out."

"Hear him out!"

Sarah nodded. "Go on Jed. Let's hear the rest of it."

"Ma'am, Dawson's a pit bull. The more you hurt him, the more he wants to fight. All you been doing with these tricks of yours is nibble at the man like a bed bug. Sure, he's angry. He's tired and he's irritable. But he ain't gonna let you stop him. He's gonna keep on coming, hitting harder every time.

"Boys, I've seen this situation played out a dozen times and it never ends good for the little guys. You should take Mr Dawson's money. Your antics shoulda upped the price some, and if they ain't, well, Jack'll sort that out for you. But you should take what's being offered and git. Start again, someplace else. Because there's no way you can win here. And I really don't wanna see any more homes burned. I sure don't wanna see anyone get killed!" He sighed, suddenly very tired. "You know, I really am on your side here. I'm a farm boy myself. So's Jack. We grew up in an orphanage 'cause our folks were killed defending their land. I don't want Jimmy to end up the same way."

Kid stood up, crushing his napkin. "That's all I got to say on the matter. But please, think hard on what I said.

"Think I'll go sit with my friend now, ifn' you don't mind, Ma'am." He nodded his thanks to Sarah, and went out to Heyes room.

He found little Jimmy laying on the bed next to Heyes, holding tight to his hand, fast asleep.

Heyes was awake. He smiled at Kid. "Gave em some friendly advice, then?" he said.

Kid blew out a sigh.

"Didn't take it too good, huh?" Heyes grinned. "You really ought learn to leave the talking to me, Kid. Made you leave without your pie too?" Heyes tut-tuted annoyingly. "They really must hate you. Hell, you gonna be skin and bone 'fore much longer, Kid."

Kid gave Heyes a pointed glance.

"You got yourself a body guard then?" Kid said. "How long's he been here?"

Heyes smiled. "Not long. Came in when the shouting started. We been talking. Kid wanted to know if I'm a gunman too."

"What you tell him?"

"The truth. I'm a farmers boy, same as him. Same as you."

"Poor kid. He's had to grow up too fast. Kinda reminds you..." Kid didn't finish. "How's he gonna end up, Heyes? When... Hell, you know well as I do how all this is gonna end if it don't stop soon."

Kid slumped down in the chair with a deep sigh. Ran his fingers through his hair.

"You look about wiped out," Heyes said softly. "Go get to bed. We can talk in the morning."

"Talk about what, Heyes?"

"Talking some sense into these folks."

"Oh?" Kid smiled. "So you're finally coming around to my side, huh?"

"Go to bed!" Heyes said, mock annoyed. "I'm tired. I'm hurting. Last thing I need right now is you getting all conceited on me."

Kid smirked.

"Go on. Git!"

"You gonna be OK?" Kid asked, getting to his feet. "Anything I can get for you 'fore I go?"

Heyes shook his head, pleased. Happy.

"Thanks," he whispered as Kid moved to the door.

"What for?"

"Saving my life. Again."

Kid shrugged with a smile. "Hey, it's what I do," he said, closing the door gently behind him.

Heyes smiled softly to himself, and slipped quietly into peaceful sleep.

~ ooO0Ooo ~

The morning dawned, cold but bright as Sarah walked in from the yard. She'd already been up an hour; had lit the stove, put on the coffee, sliced up bacon and hung fresh laundered linen on the line before she went to check on Heyes; found Kid sleeping sound, beside him in the chair.

"Well lands sakes boy what are you doin back here?" she whispered, seeing Kid wakening with a yawn. "I thought I told you to sleep in the boy's bed?"

"I been in his bed, Sarah. The boy woke in the night," Kid explained, taking the cup of hot coffee offered. "Made his way back couple of hours since, virtually sleepin on his feet. There weren't really room for two and I was awake so..."

"Never thought I'd see the day Kid Curry'd forego a soft, warm, feather bed for a night in a cold chair," said a sleepy voice, muffled deep in blankets.

"Kid?" Sarah asked with a frown.

"Just my name for him, Sarah," Heyes murmured, emerging, grinning and tousle headed from a mess of blankets and quilts. "On account of his boyish good looks."

"How you feeling this morning Jack?" Sarah asked. "Think you could cope with a little coffee?"

"I've felt better, thank you, Sarah. But yeah, I reckon I could manage some coffee."

Sarah smiled, pleased, and headed off to the kitchen to fill another cup.

"How you _really_ feelin Heyes?" Kid asked, laying a hand on his friend's forehead. "Fever's almost gone," he smiled.

"Yeah, now I can feel every bruise and break so much more clearly," Heyes winced, trying to pull himself up in bed.

"Well you'd hurt less if you'd just lay still."

"I don't like laying on my back like a prize pig. Here, help me up, will ya?"

Kid took him under the arms and hauled him up against the pillows. Heyes groaned, loudly.

"You never was one to suffer in silence was you, Heyes?"

"Oh you'd be all songs and smiles in my position I guess? You wanna swap places? Cos I'd gladly trade!"

"Sleep well?" Kid asked him, arranging the pillows under his head with a grin.

"Not so good. You?"

Kid shook his head. "Too much on my mind. Like, when's Dawson gonna take another crack at these folks?"

"Same thing been running through my thoughts too."

"Well, what we gonna do about it, Heyes?"

Heyes grinned. "Finally coming around to our side, huh?"

Kid gave him a mocking, cynical look. But there was a smile in his eyes as he did it. All the anger of that night in the barn was gone. They were together in this. _That on it's own's worth a couple of broken ribs_, Heyes thought.

Sarah came in then, with a cup of fresh coffee, "Sweet and hot.," she said, passing it to Heyes who smiled his thanks...

_Oh! That boy! A smile like fifty springtime's come at once_, Sarah thought, standing by the dresser where she rolled fresh bandages; watching Jack and his young friend the whole while in the mirror.

'Specially the friend, sitting there, sipping his coffee. He looked a whole different fella this morning. Not at all the scowling, cold eyed shootist who'd brung Jack in here two nights ago. Big silly grin all over his face. Happy, cause his friend was gonna be OK.

She hoped she could trust him. She had no reason to doubt Jack, but this friend of his... switching sides, just like that...

_A strange pair, and no mistake_ she thought. _Were they really kin? Guess they havta to be; strange thing to claim if it weren't true. _

_Not much of a family resemblance - not in the features anyhow. There was a strong affinity in their ways, though; same big smile, same charm and nice manners. It was in their style of moving too; sometimes they did things together, like crossing their arms, or, lifting a cup... Then you could see the likeness. And real strong it was too._

_Watching them there - never said a word to each other, jest sat, side by side, sippin their coffee, glancing at each other from time to time - but it felt exactly as if they'd talked the whole while. A big discussion passing between the two of em in a look... These two didn't seem to need words. There was some deep connection between em, that was plain. And it went way beyond blood. _

Sarah's gaze switched to her own reflection; the softness she saw in those pale green eyes disagreed with her. _No fool like an old fool_ she told herself, carefully adjusting her expression before turning back to her boys.

"You two think you could manage some breakfast?" she snapped. "Need to git yer strength up so's you kin ride on back to wherever it is you both come from."

"You gettin tired of us already, Sarah?" Heyes smiled, unsure of her mood.

"I been tired of you since you rolled in here with the summer breeze, Jack Lawrence," she scowled. "I'll be frank with yer. I don't like the way little Jimmy's taken to you, like you're some kinda hero out of a story book. Th' boy spends way too much time in your company, and I ain't sure you're any kind of a good influence on him, Jack. And I _know_ he ain't," she said, nodding at Kid.

"Sarah!" Kid frowned, his look more hurt than angry. "And I thought I was finally making a good impression on you!"

Heyes grinned, noting the slightest softening in the woman's hard eyes.

Sarah sighed, meeting Kid's half-laughing gaze.

Every night she prayed; prayed hard, asking the good Lord for guidance in all things. Many times she'd asked Him if she could trust Jack Lawrence, and time after time after time, He'd shown her she could. Why then this nagging feeling in her heart? There was something about the man that breathed lies and insincerity. And now this friend, this cousin of his turns up...

And yet... In her heart, she couldn't help but feel she could trust them. Oh, Jack was a liar and a thief, that much she knew. But he'd never hurt them. 'Fact, he'd got himself tortured and almost killed on account of protecting them...

She decided then and there to give this young gunny of Dawson's - this overgrown puppy-dog with his big smile and baby blue eyes the benefit of the doubt. Jack said he was OK. If she could find it in her heart to trust Jack, well, then she'd have to trust his word on Jed too.

"I'm gonna go cook you two a good hearty breakfast and I wanna see you eat up every last crumb of it, Jack Lawrence. You're gonna need your strength boy, when Dawson comes a lookin' for yer."

"What about me Sarah? Don't I need my strength too?" Kid asked with a smile.

Sarah cocked a mocking smirk at him. "You git any more nourishment in yer, and you'll be tearin' down the barn like Samson with his hair back. I'll be glad when you're gone, boy. Not sure this farm can support your appetite much longer. Bacon, biscuits and eggs OK for you?"

"That sounds just perfect ,Sarah," Heyes said, grinning at Kid's sore expression.

With a nod and a rare smile for the two of them, Sarah headed off back to the kitchen.

"Heyes," Kid said when he heard the rattling of pans and knew for sure Sarah wasn't listening. "You know, I'm gonna haveta ride out soon. Dawson knows I'm wanted. He's sure to get word to the sheriff, gonna ride a posse in here any day now..."

"I know."

"And if the sheriff comes after me, he's gonna get you too. Leader of the Devil's Hole Gang, hell! That's better to him than catching up to small fry like me!"

"Everyone around here's seen me plenty, Kid. Ain't no one recognised me yet..."

"It's only a matter of time. Heyes, we gotta go. We don't wanna git took. We don't want to bring that kinda trouble on these folks, neither."

"Kid," Heyes said. "Look at me! I'm in no state to ride. I don't even think I can get off the bed."

Kid sighed hard. "I know." His forehead furrowed, eyes darkened.

"Hey! You don't have to worry..."

"Don't have to worry!" Kid hissed, glancing at the door, aware that Sarah might appear at any moment. "Heyes I just caught up to you after three miserable, lonely years. I ain't about to see you put in prison or dragged off by some lynch mob..."

"Lynch mob!"

"Heyes! It happens. We gotta put our heads together and figure a way outta this..."

Kinda pleased to find Kid worrying about him so, Heyes settled back on the pillows with a sanguine smile. Kid's mood should make asking that little favour of him so much easier...

"Listen," He said, reassuringly as he could. "There ain't no need to worry about Dawson just yet. He's gotta get his cattle down to the railheads this week or feed em all winter long. Reckon he's gonna have his hands full for the next few days. The sheriff - that's another matter..."

Kid watched Heyes slip on his thinking face; a slight smile twitching at his lips, eyes alert, staring into the corner of the room - and waited to hear what he was going to come up with.

"He don't know who I am, other than Jack Lawrence, some guy helpin the farmers. It's not impossible he'll find out I came here wounded, and connect me to that train robbery, but..." He shook his head. "That's not likely. Not unless he's a whole lot smartern' most sheriffs of my acquaintance."

Heyes smiled at Kid. "No. I don't think he'll figure who I am. It's a gamble, but the odds are good. Now you. You're a whole other kettle of fish. He knows you're wanted cos Dawson'll tell him so. You gotta get out of here, Kid."

"Well I just told you that! Didn't have to think three hours about it, neither."

"So where you gonna go?" He asked, watching Kid out of the corner of his eye, trying hard to hold back a sly smile.

Kid shrugged. "I dunno. Head back south..."

"To where you're wanted?"

Kid shrugged again. "I'm known down there. I got a reputation. I kin link up with another outfit. And at least it's warm; out of this darn Wyoming wind that never seems to stop blowing..."

"Kid..." Heyes paused, looked at the door; some sixth sense telling him to be wary. Without needing to be prompted, Kid checked the hall for him, made sure no one was listening, then closed the door with a click...

Little Jimmy, coming back from his chores, saw Kid close the door. Eager to say good morning and talk some more with Jack, he was about to knock, and breeze on in; but his hand paused on the handle. He could hear Jack and Jed talking. He knew it was wrong to eavesdrop, knew Sarah'd catch him one good if she caught him, but - curiosity got the better of him. He put his ear close and listened...

"That day you shot me," Heyes went on in a low voice. "I sent a coded wire to the Devil's Hole Boys. We're gonna hit Dawson's train..."

"Same train you already tried for? Same train you was trying to rob when you got shot?"

"Not the same; this is no payroll train. There's a safe aboard, carrying gold he's hoarding cos he don't trust the banks. It's gonna be some haul..."

"You almost got killed last time and it's gonna be guarded even stronger if he's got gold on board, what with a range war going on and all. Heyes, you're crazy to even think about it."

"It's different this time!"

"It always is!"

"No, this time, I got inside information," Heyes grinned. "That afternoon I went into town wearing that red bandanna to skin Dawson for those supplies, I lost a couple of hands of poker to that railroad agent that's in town. I bought him a few drinks, we got to talking..." Heyes smiled. His eyes took on a happy, faraway look. "Well, it seemed downright sinful to pass up such a God given opportunity.

That trains a closely guarded secret cos Dawson don't trust anyone. There's only two men gonna be with the gold. And only Dawson and the agent know exactly when the train's comin' in..."

"Aside from you, of course."

Heyes grinned happily.

"Heyes, you could coat yerself in honey and sweettalk a nest of bees. How'd you do that?"

"Just naturally talented I guess."

"These poor farmers," Kid laughed. "They really ain't got a clue what they're dealin with here, do they."

On the other side of the door, Little Jimmy Johnson held his breath in disbelief. Jack wasn't Jack! The other man kept calling him 'Heyes' and they were talking about robbing a train...?

"Kid..." Heyes shifted on his pillows so he could look his friend right in the eye. "I can't ride, so I'm gonna need your help; wouldn't trust anyone else. I want you to meet with the gang, pass on my plan."

"They gonna trust me?"

"You need this signal..." Heyes showed him ten fingers, then three. "You give them that and they'll know the message came from me. I'm gonna send little Jimmy into town today, to deliver a note to the railroad agent. And then persuade these people to do the sensible thing and sell out..."

"They didn't take too kindly to that suggestion last night..."

"Well that's cause it came from you! This is me, Jack Lawrence talking."

"Uh huh," Kid muttered, with a disbelieving look.

"They trust me!"

"They do?"

"You were advising them to sell out to Dawson. I'm going to get that agent in here, see if we can't cut him a better deal by taking out the middle man..."

"Why would the agent go through you rather than a man he already knows and presumably trusts? You know Dawson's already providing workers, accommodations, security for the railroad..."

"Exactly!" Heyes grinned. "And I'm assuming his faith in Dawson's abilities to control things around here are gonna be shaken some when the Devil's Hole Gang hits his train."

"Heyes, be careful. Dawson and his men are still after your hide."

"S'OK. I'm gonna lay low here, try to heal up, but... We do this job, we hit this train..."

"We?"

Heyes went quiet, his stream of words stopped mid flow...

"You keep saying _we..._"

"You don't want in on this? I mean, I thought... I figured..."

"You thought I'd just jump in and go along with another of your crazy schemes huh, Heyes?"

Heyes blinked in shock and hurt. _Oh hell. He'd insulted him! Just assumed... Assumed what Heyes? That Kid would just tag along like he always did. Isn't that what made him so mad that night in the barn...He'll think you don't listen to him, don't consider his feelings. Still don't think of him as an equal... God! I didn't mean... Don't let me have blown it..._

"I'm truly sorry," Heyes croaked, his throat tight. "I, I thought you'd wanna. I didn't... If you don't..."

Kid laughed. "Heyes," he laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Of course I want to be part of the job. I'm just surprised, flattered, that you want me along. You think your boys'll take me on? I mean, they don't know me."

Heyes grinned in relief. His heart, beating fit to bust, quieted some and Kid could never have guessed at the turmoil that just went through his friend's mind as he joshed -

"Any man didn't want you at his side would be insane! The Devil's Hole Boys... well some of them ain't too bright it's true. But none of em's crazy, far as I can tell.."

"And you're sure you can take that train this time? You're taking an awful big risk, Heyes..."

"Come on Kid!" Heyes chuckled breezily. "Show a little faith in my abilities here! Taking that train's important. It's not just about the money..."

"It ain't?"

"No! Its... Its about when we were young and starting out, and we decided we'd always go for the big guys. The bankers and railroads; the ones hitting on the little fellas like these. That wasn't just talk was it? To make us feel better about robbing? We hit this train and we hit Dawson hard, where it really hurts. In his wallet and his pride," he smiled. "Gonna be good having you along Kid. Just like the old days."

"Yeah, well," Kid said, moving to the door, taking his hat up from the dresser. "I can't help but feel I've got the easy end of this deal for once. I've only got to ride into a strange gang's hideout and persuade em to go along with one of your cracked schemes. You gotta persuade them farmers to sell up to the railroad."

"You sure you got the plan all pat?"

"When d'you ever have to explain your plans to me twice?"

Heyes grinned happily. "I never did did I?"

"Heyes...?" His hand on the door handle, Kid looked back at the man on the bed; the bruised face, the blackened eyes, the soft catch in his breathing that told of the injuries hidden under his blankets. If they came after him, in that condition; he could never defend himself. "You sure you're gonna be alright?"

Heyes smiled. "Hey, I'm healin' all the time."

"That isn't what I meant."

"I know."

"Heyes, you got a way of getting yourself in trouble like no man I know."

"Kid, I been managing without you these past three years; I'm still here!"

"Yeah, and look at the state of yer!" Kid snorted, then more softly, added;

"I don't like leaving you on your own."

"I ain't alone, Kid. I got these good folks looking after me."

Kid nodded, unconvinced. "Take good care of yourself, Heyes."

"You too, Kid."

With a last sad look back at his partner, Kid Curry went out, shutting the door behind him.

Back in his room, Jimmy shut the door and sat on the bed, his knees drawn up to his chest. What would he do? Should he tell his pa? Sarah?

He was in a real quandary; confused thoughts, conflicting feelings coursing through him. He almost wanted to cry. But he didn't. He checked his rifle was clean and loaded and decided he was gonna stick close and keep his eye on Jack - and his friend.

~ ooO0Ooo ~

"You leavin'?" Sarah asked from the kitchen.

Kid pulled up with a jolt. He'd hoped to slip away quietly, leave the explaining to Heyes - He was so much better at lying. He turned and nodded.

"Ain't you even gonna stop for a little breakfast?" Sarah asked, not quite succeeding in keeping the sadness from her voice.

"Sarah, I'd dearly like to..." _and that's no lie!_ _Boy that bacon smells good... _Kid's stomach growled in protest. "But I gotta be on my way. Dawson's boys are gonna be out looking for me. If I leave now, I can draw them off before they get near the farm..."

"You'd set yourself up as a target?"

Kid shook his head with a smile. "Sarah, I ain't aimin' to get myself shot up. But I got a better chance of escaping with my skin intact if I can get through the pass and into the mountains. I'm real good at hiding a trail. Once I'm up in the timber, they'll never find me. If they catch up to me here on the farm, there'll be a shootout. Lot more of them than there is of us. Chances are someone'll get killed. It ain't safe for anyone here with me around."

"Whether you stay or go, they'll fetch up here sooner or later, Jed. I'd feel safer if you was around. Reckon Jack'd be too. He ain't in no shape to take on Dawson's army."

Kid shook his head. "That's why I gotta go; and go now, Sarah. They know I'm here. If I stay they _will_ come in after me. They see me riding out, they'll follow."

"Where'll you go, Jed?"

"North. Jack's got some friends up in the Medicine Bows I kin stay with till he's well enough to come join me..."

"Wouldn't be anywhere near Devil's Hole now would it?"

Kid swallowed. "Devil's Hole, Sarah...?"

"I know right enough what Jack is, Jed. Ain't many ways a man gets shot up the way he was. He ain't from around here; no reason for Dawson's men to shoot at him. Only other reason I can figure is if he wuz one of them boys that took on that payroll train."

"If that's what you think, Sarah, why haven't you been to see the sheriff?"

Sarah snorted. "Go see Kincaid? He's Dawson's man, all bought and paid fer and wrapped in brown paper. Why'd I'd I do a fool thing like that? Anyhow..." she looked away, busied herself stirring the eggs in the pan, keeping her head down so Kid couldn't see her blushes. "I like Jack. Whoever he is, whatever he's done, he never did no harm to us. If it hadn'ta been fer him, well... I don't rightly know where we'd be. But don't you go tellin him I said so," she snapped, turning her wooden spoon on Kid. "I don't hold with thievin. Whether he's stealin' from Dawson or the Queen of England, it ain't right. And don't you go thinkin I said it is, Jed Curry."

"No Ma'am," Kid said with a smile.

"Here," she said, holding out a parcel of waxed paper. "It's just some bread and bacon. I can't have you riding out without knowing you got food in your belly. Go on, take it," she said, thrusting the parcel at him like it was a package of poison she was anxious to be rid of.

"Thanks Sarah. I appreciate it. I am hungry," he said, turning to go.

"Oh, you're always hungry, Jed!" she smiled. Then, as he turned to the door, she wiped her hands quickly on her apron and threw her hands around his neck in a close embrace.

"You take care of yourself now," she whispered, the quietest catch of a sob in her voice.

Before he could even register his surprise, it was over and she was marching back to the kitchen. "If you're set on leavin', you better git, son," she said. "Morning's half over and I got chores waitin'."

Kid nodded. Tipping his hat to her with a smile, he walked out into the cold, bright light of the yard.

~ ooO0Ooo ~

The wind howled through the rocky valley with a promise of snow on it's tail. The cold day with it's bitter wind had turned colder still now the sun was setting behind the mountains; such short days in this high lonesome country with winter drawing in.

Kid pulled up the collar of his coat against the chill that ripped through to his bones; his shivers not all to do with the weather. The evening light shone dark and red through the dead trunks of the pines, casting long, drear shadows along the trail; making a coal black cavern of the forest that pressed around him.

Kid didn't like this at all. Heyes had warned him the hideout was a perfect spot for ambush, so he was prepared for the feelings the place brought on; wary and tense; the hairs standing all over his body.

He fingered the sooty tear in his coat sleeve; a reminder that Dawson's men were still watching the trails out of sodbuster country. Only fast riding and hard shooting had kept them from running him down. Now a three days ride had brought him here - a stranger - to Devil's Hole.

Fearing ambush with every step, every nerve in his body trembling with the instinctive need to turn and run, he forced himself to keep riding, slowly and deliberately, eyes raking the rocks above. The bright rays of the dying sun made the landscape dance and flicker, red and green, on his retinas. Half-blinded, he almost missed the hanging rock shaped like a wizened old man where Heyes had told him to stop and wait for the gang to show.

He didn't have to wait long. Minutes after he reigned in, they came down from the hillside. They must've been observing him for miles... probably since he hit the valley. He watched them approach, keeping his look cool, calm and capable; though his heart was pounding like a steam hammer against his ribs.

"OK, who are you and whatcha doin' here? Assuming you _know_ where you are and ain't just terminally stupid," a tall man with a green bandanna and a five days beard drawled, drawing snickers and giggles from the rest of the band.

Kid smiled warily. "I come from Hannibal Heyes," he said, lifting his hands in the 10 - 3 signal Heyes had told him to use.

That got their attention - though the tall man with the wary brown eyes appeared unimpressed.

"That a fact?" he said. "And did he tell you where he's been hiding himself these past six days while we been freezin' our butts off here awaitin' him...?"

"Heyes is hurt," Kid said.

"Heyes is hurt?" a small blonde man with buck teeth yelled in a thick southern accent. "What happened? He gone' be OK?"

Kid nodded. "He got himself on the sharp end of a range war..."  
"Well how in hell's name he do that?" the tall man said - the leader, Kid assumed, in Heyes absence.

"Well it really don't matter how it happened," Kid said. "He sent me in here to go over a plan with you..."

"Now hang on there, just a minute," the tall man said. "I mean, we don't know who you are, fella. You could be anyone breezin' in here."

"Wheat's right!" said a sunbaked man with a face like a wad of well chewed tobacco. "We don't know who this guy is. Might be a Marshall fer all we know!"

"He's got Heyes' sign though, don't he?" Said a tall, lean, dark haired man in a preacher's hat.

"Yeah! How'd he know that if he ain't come from Heyes?" the small blonde man said to murmurs of agreement.

The leader - _Wheat, was it? Wheat Carlson then. Kid knew of him_ - drew himself up in the saddle and squinted at Kid.

"OK," he drawled. "Assumin' you is from Heyes. First off, we need yer gun..." He wiggled his fingers in a 'gimme' gesture. "Now! C'mon!" he snapped. "Hand it to Kyle, there."

Reluctantly, Kid took his Colt and handed it to the small blonde man who passed it on to Wheat.

"And we need a name."

"My name's Jed Curry. I'm an old friend..."

"Jed Curry!" the man dressed like an out-of-luck preacher yelled. "You're the Kid?"

The atmosphere lightened right up. Suddenly everyone - except Wheat - was smiling. The sunburned man clapped Kid hard on the back.

"Old Heyes never stops talking about you! Reckon we know more about you than your own mother!" he yelled.

"Oh he's so full of stories 'bout when you two was young-uns!" the preacher grinned. "Did you really skin them Rebs over in Abilene with that poker scam you wuz pullin'?"

"Oh, and how about that time you got jobs in that bank you wuz gonna rob?"

"D'you really pull a gun on Wild Bill, Kid?"

Kid gasped a short laugh. He had no idea he was such a celebrity here in Devil's Hole. "Heyes been talking 'bout me huh?"

"Talks of almost nothing else!" Kyle drawled with a happy grin. "I'm right glad to finally meet with yer Kid!" He held out a grimy gloved hand. Kid shook it hard.

"You come to join up with us?" the sunbaked man asked, holding out his own hand. "Lobo's my name..."

"Cos he smells like a wolf," a dark haired man grinned. "Hank Dyer," he smiled.

"Right pleased to meet yer Hank, Lobo, Kyle," Kid said.

"This here's Preacher..."

"Good to meet yer Preacher."

"And that's Wheat Carlson."

Wheat regarded Kid with squint eyes, a suspicious look on his face.

Kid nodded uncertainly. This man didn't seem to care much for him - and he had his gun.

"Howdy, Wheat," Kid said, walking his horse over. "I've heard a lot about yer. You headed up that bank job over in Deuel, Colorado last fall. Neat job! Real good idea to kidnap the bank manager the night before and get the combination off of him."

Wheat nodded proudly. "Well, good ideas is the only kind I ever have."

"Weren't his idee, he copied it off a job Heyes did in Cheyenne," Kyle grinned - the smile slipping into a nervous gulp at the look Wheat turned on him.

"Don't matter whose idea it was, Kyle," Kid smiled. "Wheat here got the initiative to take a good scheme, tried and true, and use it when the circumstances presented themselves. Move like that takes brains."

Kid held out his hand to the older man. Wheat took it, and almost smiled.

.

As Kid was talking over one Heyes plan in Devil's Hole, a second was coming to fruition in the Land Office of Bitter Creek, Wyoming where the farmers, all scrubbed and shaved and in their church suits, shook hands with Claudius Thompson, Land Agent for the Union Pacific Railroad. He was the man responsible for the new spur line going north, through sodbuster country to take Wyoming cattle - Dawson's cattle - east, to the canning factories. Thompson was delighted with the deal. The price he'd negotiated with Mr Lawrence, the farmer's agent, was 25 per cent cheaper than the price he'd previously cut with Mercer Dawson.

Most of the farmers were - if not exactly happy, then relieved. They were finally getting out of a range war that had dominated and burdened their lives for eighteen months, been the death of two men and the ruination of more than a dozen. And had got a real good price for their land too - well over the going rate, and considerably more than Dawson was offering.

The only man in the room still refusing to sign the contract was John Johnson. He stood stock still, hands pressed tight in his pockets, chewing on Thompson's fine Havana cigar. When the agent held out his pen, Johnson looked him in the eye.

"Mr. Thompson," he said. "I gotta know one thing 'fore I sign this here piece of paper." Thompson nodded for him to go ahead.

"My farm's very dear to me..." He held up his hand to silence Thompson's quick response.

"No, let me finish, please. That land's more than my home. It's also a grave to my loved ones. I want your sworn undertaking that your company won't defile them graves. Won't build on em, won't run no railroad over em..."

"Mr Johnson! This was already discussed and agreed to with Mr Lawrence when we met at your farm. I told him, and I assure you; the Union Pacific Railroad is a fine, trustworthy and Christian organisation. There is no question, none at all..."

"See, soon as me and my family's settled up in Montana, I'm a coming to git em. You understand? I'm coming back to take em all to our new home. So, I need you to swear on all you hold holy, Mr. Thompson, that my family's last resting place will be sacrosanct. If you give me your word of honour, as a Christian Gentleman, that the graves of my dear ones'll be respected, that's all I need."

"And I'm happy to give it. Will you sign the contract now, Mr Johnson?"

With a sharp nod of his head, John signed the paper best he could through the hot tears that blurred his sight and smudged the purple ink that flowed from the pen.

~ ooO0Ooo ~

Deputy Sandburg yawned wide, trying awful hard to stay awake. Glancing over his shoulder at the two drunks sleeping it off in the cells behind him _- no need to be the laughing stock of the whole town_ - he slipped his glasses on to his nose - _he surely would hate to have the townsfolk know he wore spectacles like somebody's grandmother_ - and tried again to read his new Dime Novel. The thin paper book had just come with the post that morning and he was aching to get into the story but there were constant interruptions. Twice he'd been called out over drunken incidents at the saloon. Deputy Ellison had really been on his tail tonight too; almost like he was checking up on him or something. He was kinda relieved when the older deputy had finally bid him goodnight and gone home to his bed.

_Guess he figures even I can't mess up watching over a couple of drunks, huh?_

OK, it was true, he'd made a few mistakes lately. Misjudged a couple of situations that had got out of hand and almost turned bad, but with this range war going on and them hired bullies of Old Man Dawson's constantly in town, getting drunk, cutting up and taking out their frustrations with their guns...

Sheriff Kincaid seemed unable - or unwilling - to stop them. Some people were saying Dawson was paying the sheriff to leave his boys alone. _Hey!_ Sandburg didn't wanna know. He'd only been a deputy for a few weeks and was still learning the ropes. He shouldn't have to deal with situations like this.

Unable to keep his mind on the tale of Deadwood Dick, he stood and stretched and yawned some more. Pouring a cup of strong coffee, he went over to the barred window and peered out. It was late, 'bout two am he guessed. Cold out there. Big silver half moon shining in a sky full of stars...

That's when he heard the click of a hammer being drawn back behind him.

He would swear after - _telling the tale to his friends in the saloon - _ that his heart stopped dead for a full ten seconds; maybe more.

"OK, Deputy. Git yer hands in the air and turn around, real slow..."

Sandburg did as he was bid, eyes staring like a pair of big blue marbles in a face pale with fear.

The two drunks were grinning, holding little Derringers at him - _Oh hell! Where had they had them things hid? He was gonna be in real trouble this time..._

Without needing to be told, he hurriedly unhitched his Colt from the holster. Dandling the gun from his index finger, he held it out towards the two men, a nervous, flinching look on his face

The taller of the two gestured with his fingers; "Bring it over here boy."

The man took the gun from him, putting it in his own holster. "Now," he said. "Where's that big deputy who was here earlier?"

"Gone home. Only me here tonight."  
The big man nodded. "What time's the next man due in?"

"Not till sunup."

"OK. Go fetch the keys, son" the big man drawled. "No tricks mind! Cos I don't wanna kill yer."

After Sandburg unlocked the cell door, Wheat quickly frisked him before pushing him inside.

"Now," Wheat said. "You un-pin that there badge on your chest and pass it to me. Thank you son. Now, we need another..."

"Ain't another. Each man keeps his own with him all the time."

"You ain't bullshittin me now, are you, boy?"

The young deputy shook his curly head emphatically. He was wide-eyed with fear. Wheat was sure he was telling the truth.

"OK. Well, I guess my friend here will have to improvise." He smiled, pinning Sandburg's star to his vest. His sidekick, a small blonde man, looked genuinely disappointed he wouldn't get to play deputy this evening.

"Now, you put your hands behind your back there... Thank you Kyle," Wheat said, taking the handcuffs the smaller man handed him, fixing them on the deputy's wrists. Stuffing the boy's own bandanna into his mouth, he secured the gag with Kyle's. Sandburg tried to protest as the filthy rag was tied around his face, but the sound was so muffled, it was impossible to fully appreciate the range of the kid's profanity.

"Thank you son," Wheat smiled, tipping his hat as he locked the jail door. "You've been right helpful and co-operative. I got half a mind to wire the Governor and tell him so."

The icy blast of night air that filled the jailhouse as the outlaws left was nothing to the chill of disappointment and failure that gripped Sandburg's soul. He slumped down on the cot to wait for sunup and Sheriff Kincaid's return. To be followed, no doubt, by a swift return to civilian life.

While Wheat and Kyle were dealing with the deputy, Hank and Lobo were at the railroad station, holding guns on a pair of stripped, tied and terrified little clerks. Too little. Neither outlaw could get into the uniform. Kyle was commandeered the moment he stepped up to the door, quickly dressed and instructed to stand outside, and look like he knew what he was doing while Hank sent a signal down the line to stop the train.

Then Kid rode in, sporting the sheriff's badge.

"Everything go OK, Kid?" Kyle asked him.

Kid smiled, as he dismounted holding thumb and finger in an 'OK' gesture. "Sheriff's roped up nice and tidy," he said with a satisfied grin, taking Kyle's lantern.

"OK, Kyle," Kid said, when Hank and Lobo stepped outside with nods and smiles to say the message was sent. "You wait here twenty five minutes, no more..."

A sudden pang of uncertainty struck him. Kid didn't want to come right out and ask Kyle if he could tell the time, but he'd got to know the guy pretty well this past three days - and he wasn't sure.

"There's a clock, here in the station..."

"I knows it!"

"OK... Well, don't wait any longer. Twenty five minutes, then on your horse and outta here."

"You got it!"

"You can improvise, you got a story to tell, in case anyone comes along..."

"You leave it to me Kid. I won't let you down!"

Kid nodded and smiled uncertainly. But there was no time to worry. The train would be stopping up the line in five minutes time and he had to get moving. Which was why Wheat's sudden intervention was so untimely.

"Hold on there just a gosh-danged minute," he said, gripping Kid's sleeve as he moved to his horse.

"We ain't got time for conversation, Wheat..."

"I think I should wear the sheriff's badge."

"What?"

"I'm the leader when Heyes ain't here. I should wear that sheriff's badge."

"Wheat. Heyes said Kid was to stop the train," Hank said.

"Yeah. I reckon we should stick with Heyes' plan," Lobo agreed.

"I'm the leader...!" Wheat started to say, till he was interrupted by Kid's cold stare. Wheat actually swallowed, nervously.

"Wheat. I understand your feelings," Kid said, patiently as he could. "But we been over this plan a dozen times. We start switchin things around now, everyone's gonna git confused and things is gonna go wrong. Now. I am wearing the sheriffs badge but that don't make me sheriff now, does it? We ain't actually sheriff and deputy. These is just disguises to facilitate the robbing of the train..."

_Facilit... what? What the hell? That was a Heyes word and no mistake, _Wheat thought_. You tell them two wuz kindred spirits. Could see there was gonna be trouble too, when Heyes got together with this here Kid Curry. Still, no point in pushing it now - there was a job to do. But when they got back to the Hole, well... There'd have to be a reckoning... _

"Whatever you say, Kid," Wheat said, with a grimace of plain insincerity. "I was just thinkin of your safety and all... Heyes'd be awful mad if anything were to happen to yer."

Kid's eyes narrowed, but there was no time now for worrying about Wheat. "C'mon," he said, exasperated. "We're late."

The train was screeching to a halt about two miles up the line as Kid and Wheat tied their horses in the bushes. Kid took the lantern and walked towards the train, swinging it, making sure the light was catching the badge pinned prominently to his chest.

"Hey there! Hey up ahead!" he yelled, unable to see much for the glare of the lantern on this dark night, but hoping to God the men surely pointing their guns at him didn't know this town too well - didn't know Kincaid.

"What's goin' on?" The driver yelled.

"Problem up ahead!" Kid said as he reached the drivers cab. "Outlaw gang thought to rob this train tonight. They've busted some track up towards town. We got the gang, got men working on the busted line, but it's gonna be quite a while before you can move on."

"How in hell did they find out about this train anyhow?" The driver said, incredulously. "Mr Dawson's gonna be awful mad when he finds out..."

"He surely is," Preacher whispered with a grin, holding his gun to the side of the driver's head.

"OK now, mister," Kid said turning his coldest, most implacable, most terrifying gaze on the trembling driver. "You come with us, and we'll go talk to them two men in the car back there."

Once the driver had explained how the track was up, but the sheriff had come with an armed escort to bring Mr Dawson's safe into town, it was an easy enough matter to get the drop on them, gag and tie all three and get in to where the safe was waiting for the expert to work her combination...

Which was Heyes cue to emerge from his hiding place by the track... so where was he?

While his plan was being executed so smoothly back in Bitter Creek, Heyes, waiting in the dark of night, was having a few unforeseen problems.

He was already stiff and suffering - his broken bones, bruises and that damn wound Falmouth had ripped open so bad were all conspiring to make the cold and the waiting ten times worse that it should have been.

Heyes risked standing a moment, desperate to stretch out and try to restore some circulation to his chilled and aching limbs. He angled his pocket watch to the moonlight... two thirty seven. Another twelve minutes and...

He heard a twig snap.

Heyes spun around in sudden alarm, his gun flying into his hand; heard a small voice whisper;

"Jack. Jack, where are yer...?"

_Jimmy? What in hell...?_

"Jim!" He hissed, desperate to shut the boy up - he was crashing around like a bear in there. The boy emerged, rifle over his shoulder, grinning all over his face. The grin replaced by a frown of pain as

Heyes grabbed him hard and pulled him down to the ground.

"What...?"

"Shhhhhh!" Heyes commanded, his face twisted in fear and anger. "What in the name of GOD are you doing here? How'd you find me?"

"It's wrong to blaspheme, Jack. It really is..."

"Jimmy, what are you doing here?"

"Well, I come to help, of course."

Heyes looked at him blankly.

"I heard you talking, you and Jed. I know I shouldn'ta but I couldn't help but hear ya, and I reckoned... See Jack, I mean, Mr Heyes," he grinned. "See, I know who you are, Jack and it don't matter none you lied about your name. I know why you done it... Well, you said how you wuz gonna rob Mr Dawson's train to git back at him and I'm real good with a rifle and all, and..."

Heyes held his face in his hands and groaned.

"I thought I could help. I got a lot of gettin' back to do with Dawson too, Jack..."

"Jimmy, you gotta get out of here."

"No!"

"Yes! Listen to me!" Heyes gripped the boy by his shoulders and looked him in the eye.

"Jimmy. There's nothing exciting or glamorous about robbin a train. It's dirty, dangerous work. You're liable to get yourself killed..."

"Jack, you know, I shoot real well, I can take care of myself and you too."

"No, Jimmy!"

"Please, Jack!"

Heyes leaned back on his heels and sighed. What could he say to this boy? It was true, he'd been shooting to protect his folks, fighting like a man in a range war since he was eight years old. Robbing a train - wasn't that just the next stage along? Kid was right when he said this life would end up turning him bad. Heyes had to say something. The train was on it's way. The boy was going to ruin everything.

Heyes looked anxiously at his watch; two forty four.

"Jimmy. Son..." he sighed sadly. "I ain't robbing the train to get back at Mr Dawson. I'm robbing it cos it's got a lot of gold on board."

"Dawson's gold!" Jimmy beamed.

"Yup, Dawson's gold. But, it could be anybody's gold. See, I'm an outlaw. Ain't nothing noble about it. I ain't no Robin Hood. I steal the same way I play poker, because I like doing it and because it's an easy way to get a lot of money without working."

"That ain't true! You're just saying all this to make me hate you and stop me from helping you and it won't work, Jack."

"Jimmy..."

"Cos if you was what you say you is, you wouldn'ta helped us fight Dawson. You woulda let us look after you when you was wounded then just rode on out and left us to it. Or robbed us! But you didn't. You stayed and you helped us, Jack. And now I'm gonna stay, and I'm gonna help you..."

The train! Heyes could hear it off in the distance. _Hell!_

"Jimmy!" Heyes grabbed him hard by the shoulders.

"Ow Jack! You're hurting me..."

"I don't care. You gotta listen to me. Look Jimmy, let me tell you something about the Kid and me. When we was boys, 'bout the same age you are now, we lost our folks. They was killed in the war. Now, we can say we turned bad cause of all the terrible things that happened, cause we had nobody to worry about cept each other, and no one to put us right. Now, you just told me it's wrong to blaspheme. Who told you that, Jim?"

"Sarah's always sayin it. She clips me good whenever..."

"Well there you go. Now, how's Sarah gonna feel when she finds out you've taken to outlawing? Thou shalt not steal. Ain't that what the Bible says?"

"I guess..."

"See, Jimmy, we didn't have no folks to teach us, or fret over us. Nobody to answer to and fetch us one when we did wrong. But you do, Jim Think how Sarah and your Pa's gonna feel if you take to robbin trains. Kid and me, we're too old to change. You're just a boy. Do you really wanna go the same way as us? Wanted. Living apart from normal folks. Always on the run, dodging bullets, sleeping out in the rain and the snow, bringing shame and misery on your family? Never get to go home again. Is that really what you want?"

Jimmy looked away, shrugged half-heartedly.

"Jim," Heyes said softly. "Your Dad's sacrificed a lot to get you a new life. You're gonna be moving out in the morning, heading north to Montana... "

The train had stopped, he could hear voices - he had to get moving.

"Jim I gotta go. But before I do, I want you to promise me you're gonna be on that wagon tomorrow with your Pa and Sarah and a clean conscience to boot. We're gonna hear no more 'bout robbin trains? Promise me now..."

"Where the hell is he?" Wheat snapped at Kid.

"I don't know," Kid replied, eyes anxiously raking the dark undergrowth. "I'm gonna go look..."

"Here he is!" Hank grinned as Heyes limped down the line towards them.

"What kept ya Heyes?" Kid asked meeting him halfway.

"Tell you about it later. Right now, I wanna see that safe," he grinned. "Wanna get me a look at that gold..."

~ ooO0Ooo ~

"You trust your gang Heyes?" Kid asked.

"Hmmm?" The question threw Heyes a little. It seemed an odd thing to ask, coming after such a long silence.

They'd ridden north through what remained of the night. The gang had split off some ways back, headed to Devil's Hole with the gold, presumably taking the posse with them. They hadn't actually _seen_ a posse, but there was sure to be one. Heyes wasn't worried. The boys would lose them soon as they hit the rocks.

Kid and Heyes had more need to be watchful. They had some unfinished business to attend to, and had headed out to Hanging Rock, just a couple of miles north of Dawson's spread. The sun had been up an hour now and they needed to be quiet and careful since there was a good chance Dawson's men would be out and looking for blood - 'Specially after the robbery, and the news that the sodbusters had sold out to the railroad direct would have got to him for sure by now.

"Sure I do. Why'd you ask?" Heyes replied in a low voice.

"Cos they got all the haul Heyes! Seventy two thousand in gold. That's a lot of trust."

"Well I got a lot of trust. The boys wouldn't double cross us Kid. You need to know that if you're gonna be a part of the gang... " He sneaked a sideways glance at his partner. "You are, aren't you?"

"Are what?" Kid asked, peering at the road through binoculars.

"Joining up with us?"

Kid lowered the binoculars and sighed.

"What?" Heyes asked, the short pause too long for him to bear.

"Well, I don't know Heyes. Every man's got a place there. Where am I gonna fit in?"

"Well, you're my partner. Aren't you?"

Kid seemed to have to think about that one. He watched the horizon, biting his lip. Then turned that cold, hard look on Heyes. He watched his friend a while, seeing the passage of emotions -bewilderment, trepidation, anxiety, fear - that crossed his face; enjoying watching him sweat.

"I guess," he said, stone faced.

Heyes eyes scanned Kid's face for a clue to his real thoughts and feelings. Finding none, he said. "You sure had to think about that."

Kid grinned, then laughed at his friend's continuing confusion.

"Heyes, whatever happened to your sense of humour?"

"Ah! Joker huh?"

Kid laughed some more.

"So, are you joining with us?"

"I thought I just answered you that. What else am I gonna do? I sure can't let you run around on your own anymore. All the trouble you go gettin' yourself into."

"Oh, is that it?"

"Uh huh." Curry picked up the binoculars again. "Think Wheat will want me in the gang?" he asked.

"Wheat? What's he got to do with it? He been giving you trouble?"

"Not exactly, but I don't think he likes me."

Heyes laughed. "Well that don't exactly surprise me. Wheat don't like anyone! I remember one time in Rawling..."

"They're here," Kid interrupted him.

Heyes scanned the road and smiled. "Let's go!"

"Pa! Aunt Sarah!" Jimmy cried excitedly. "Here they are! I told you! I told you they wouldn't go without sayin goodbye!"

John Johnson reigned in the mules. He and Sarah joined Jimmy in looking back through the swirling dust to see two riders fast approaching, each holding on to his hat in the face of the ever gusting wind.

"Well lands sakes! If it isn't really you, Jack Lawrence," Sarah beamed. "And your cousin Jed, too!"

"Howdy Sarah! John," the two riders smiled.

"Hi there Jimmy," Heyes said to the boy who suddenly couldn't meet his eye.

"You folks is headed up to Montana I hear?" Kid asked.

"That's right," Sarah replied. "Got us a deal on some real good land 'bout three hundred miles north of here. Good soil, well watered; timber too. You gonna visit with us boys, when we're settled?"

"We'd like that Sarah," Heyes smiled.

"Remote spot like that, be a good place to hide out huh boys?" John said, with a sly smile. Kid glanced at Heyes whose expression hadn't changed at all.

"Why, whatever do you mean John? Three hundred miles, that's a long way from Dawson. Why would we need a place to hide? Unless you're figuring on getting yourself into another land war?" Heyes grinned.

John shook his head with a smile. "I hear Dawson's train got hit," he said. "Fair cleaned him out till he gets paid for them cattle he's driving south. They do say that gang near took this whole town over last night. Jumped the law, railroad office too."

"We heard about that," Heyes said.

Sarah frowned at them. "Boys, you know, stealin ain't right..."

"Amen to that Sarah!" Heyes said, with his most sincere expression. "I hope Mr Dawson remembers that next time he's a prayin in church. Maybe he'll remember that the lord moves in mysterious ways. Maybe him getting all his gold took that way'll show him the way to stop skinning the poor and have more respect for the little guy."

Sarah smiled - tight little smile, but it was there.

"What do you say, Jimmy?" Kid asked the boy, watching the two outlaws with a wry look.

"I think stealin's a sin, but so is lyin and I do that a whole lot moren I oughta," Jimmy said. "I don't think all outlaws is bad. Robin Hood was an outlaw too. He stole from the rich and he gave to the poor."

"Robin Hood's just a story book hero, Jimmy. He ain't real," Heyes smiled.

"I don't know 'bout that, Jack," Jimmy said. "I think he was real too. I like to think he was."

Heyes nodded with a smile.

"So, who are you boys, really?" John asked them. "You some kind of Robin Hoods too?"

"No sir!" Kid said emphatically. "I ain't nobody's hero. Nor wanna be!"

Then hands were grasped, goodbyes said, tears shed by Jim and by Sarah, and the two outlaws turned their horses to go.

"Jack, Jed," Sarah called. "Before you go, will you just tell me one thing? Were you two in this together from the start?"

Kid looked at Heyes, who seemed, for once, at a loss for words.

"Well, you know Sarah," Kid said. "I guess, in a way, we were."

Heyes nodded. With a smile for his friend, he said; "Reckon, we just didn't know it at the time, is all."

THE END.


End file.
